^^}}\U.^^  ^vP^^vz^^^>i^>^ 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 


THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 

OF  CIVIL  WAR  NOVELS 

PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 


si^mmjjn^itoti 


THE  M'DONALDS; 


OR, 


THE  ASHES  OF   SOUTHERN  HOMES. 


A  TALE  OF  SHERMAN'S  MARCH. 


WILLIAM  HENRY  PECK, 

OF  GEORGIA, 
AUTHOR   OF    "bertha   SEELY,"     "BEATRICE,"     "CHARLES   MARION," 


*'  Tristius  baud  illis  monstrum  est  nee  sajvior  ulla 
Pestis  et  ira  Deum,  Sty^is  sese  extulit  undis." 


iSeurcateli  to  V^z  American  ^People. 


NEW    YORK: 
METROPOLITAN    RECORD    OFFICE, 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1667,  by 

JOHN  MULLALT, 

in  the  Clerk's  OflQce  of  the  District  Comt  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern 

District  of  New  York. 


CONTENTS. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I.  Page 

Lying  in  Wait, 5 

CHAPTER  II. 
The  Attempt, 29 

CHAPTER  III. 

A  Noble  Heart  under  a  Blue  Coat, 45 

CHAPTER  IV. 
A  Titled  "  Bummer," 60 

CHAPTER  V. 

Insulting  the  Flag, Y4 

CHAPTER  VI. 
Atlanta  Depopulated, 88 

CHAPTER  VII. 
The  Coming  Tempest, 102 

CHAPTER  Vni. 
The  Barbarous  Deed, .115 


603184 


4  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  IX.  Page 

"Living  OFF  THE  Country," 122 

CHAPTER  X. 
Human  Hyenas, 136 

CHAPTER  XI. 
Hanging  for  Gold, 147 

CHAPTER  XII. 
jVlways  Wounded, 161 

CHAPTER  Xm. 
Cashmore  on  the  Track, 1G8 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
The  Last  of  Cashmore, 1*78 

CHAPTER  XV. 
Conclusion, 190 


THE  M'DONALDS; 

OR, 

TRE  ASHES   OF  SOUTHERN  HOMES 


CHAPTER  I. 

LYING     IN     WAIT. 

Although  tbe  people  of  tlie  South  suffered  immensely 
in  every  portion  of  her  territory  during  the  late  Civil  War, 
so  fcarfal  were  their  disasters  in  the  line  of  Shennan's 
grand  march,  that  the  year  1864  and  the  first  part  of 
1865  stand  prominent  in  the  annals  of  their  ang-uish.  Few 
of  Greorgia  and  South  Carolina  can  recall  the  miseries  of 
those  days  without  a  mental  prayer  that  the  great  American 
people  may  never  again  be  the  sufferers  or  the  perpetrators 
of  similar  atrocities. 

It  was  in  the  month  of  May,  1864,  when  the  army  of 
Sherman,  under  the  guidance  of  that  famous  or  infamous 
chief— posterity  will  decide  which  descriptive  he  won  in 
that  year— began  the  campaign  which  resulted  in  the  fall 
of  Atlanta. 


6 

From  the  frontiers  of  Northern  Georgia,  and  long  after 
the  shells  of  the  Federal  guns  had  continued  daily  to 
slaughter  the  women  and  children  of  the  hard-pressed  city, 
the  gallant  anny  of  Confederates  had  contested  every  foot 
of  Georgian  soil,  until,  on  the  night  of  September  1st,  the 
rush  and  roar  of  retreating  troops,  the  explosion  of  stores 
of  ammunition,  and  the  terrible  confusion  seen  everywhere, 
announced  that  General  Hood,  the  Confederate  chief,  was 
evacuating  the  city. 

At  that  period,  the  exhausted  Confederacy  was  unable 
to  replenish  her  depleted  ranks,  while  the  heavy  losses  of 
the  enemy  were  easily  repaired  from  the  millions  of  the 
North,  aided  by  the  torrent  of  emigration  flowing  unceas- 
ingly from  the  shores  of  Europe.  Her  people  had  fought 
until  the  world  raised  its  hands  in  wonder ;  but  the  over- 
whelming odds  were  fast  bearing  her  patriotic  prowess  to 
the  dust. 

The  metaphorical  "  anaconda "  had  become  a  fact, 
and  one  by  one  the  strong  bones  of  the  unhappy  Con- 
federacy were  crushed — New  Orleans,  Vicksburg,  Nashville, 
Memphis,  Chattanooga, — and  now  the  beautiful  Gate  City 
was  to  writhe  in  the  scaly  folds  of  the  monster.  qqa, 

For  several  days  it  had  been  feared  by  the  citizens  that  f^jk 
their  defenders  were  about  to  leave  the  city;  still  there 
were  hundreds  upon  whom  the  certainty  fell  like  a  thunder- 
bolt, and  the  eagerness  to  depart  filled  the  streets  with 
confusion.     Many  succeeded  in  leaving,  and  the  hospitable 


cities  of  Macon,  Augusta,  Columbus,  and  Savannali  opened 
wide  their  generous  arms  to  shelter  these  fugitives. 

But  there  were  many  who  remained.  Some  of  these 
were  renegades  to  the  South,  lip-patriots  who  had  fattened 
upon  her  vitals,  and  heaped  up  riches,  snatched  from  the 
mouths  of  her  famishing  troops  and  starving  people.  These 
prepared  to  clasp  the  hands  of  men  whoso  daily  toil  had 
been  to  slaughter  the  kinsmen  of  these  craven-hearted  re- 
creants ;  these  ran  out  the  flag  of  the  invader  from  their 
windows,  and  made  ready  their  tongues  to  sputter  "  loyal 
sentiments,"  and  to  bend  their  knees  to  those  whose  uni- 
form was  drenched  in  the  best  blood  of  the  South. 

But  there  were  hundreds  who  could  not  follow  the 
retreating  army,  and  among  them  were  Mrs.  Preston 
M'Donald  and  her  daughter  Myrtis.  They  were  types  of 
those  noble  women,  the  matron  and  the  maiden  of  the 
South,  whose  glory  of  patriotic  fortitude  and  sacrifice  will 
form  themes  for  the  poet  and  the  orator  while  the  memory 
of  the  war  remains  upon  the  pages  of  history. 

We  may  claim  a  little  space  to  describe  them,  as  they 
are  to  be  our  heroines  in  this  story. 

Mrs.  Preston  M'Donald,  as  her  name  declares,  was  of 
the  noble  and  famous  families  of  the  South ;  related  by 
blood  to  the  Prestons  and  the  Hamptons  of  South  Caro- 
lina, and  by  marriage  to  the  M'Donalds  of  Georgia.  A 
tall  and  stately  lady,  whose  ebon  garb  of  widowhood  added 
to  the  dignity  and  impressiveness  of  her  appearance,  and 


8  THE   MCDONALDS; 

■whose  pale  and  care-worn  features  had  not  lost  those  linea- 
ments of  beauty  which  had  won  for  her,  in  her  youth,  the 
appellation  of  the  "  Belle  of  Charleston." 

But  time,  and  care,  and  sorrow  for  the  loss  of  her  hus- 
band and  sons  had  prematurely  blanched  her  hair  and 
attenuated  her  form  ;  yet  the  fire  of  her  dark  and  splendid 
eyes  glowed  as  unsubdued,  if  not  as  sparkHng,  as  when  she 
charmed  with  her  beauty  and  spirit  the  gay  and  gallant 
fathers  of  those  young  heroes  who  so  long  and  so  success- 
fully defended  the  Palmetto  City  from  the  fleets  of  Lincoln, 
or  who  so  bravely  immortalized  the  blood  of  South  Caro- 
lina upon  the  soil  of  Virginia. 

The  war  had  swept  from  her  side  a  devoted,  husband, 
who  sealed  his  loyalty  to  Southern  independence  with  his 
heart's  blood  at  Manassas  ;  and  when  Atlanta  fell,  the 
widow  knew  that  the  reaper  Death  had  cast  into  bloody 
graves  five  of  the  six  daring  sons  her  fond  eyes  had  tear- 
fully seen  hurry  from  a  luxurious  home  to  repel  the  in- 
vader. 

The  sixth,  the  last,  the  youngest,  the  best-beloved  of 
that  idolized  band,  the  laughing,  merry-hearted  Rutledge, 
whose  lip  was  scarcely  shaded  by  the  beard  of  early  man- 
hood, who  had  been  called  from  the  poesy  of  Horace  and 
Virgil  to  the  sterner  studies  of  the  camp  and  field,  when 
last  her  heart  was  gladdened  by  tidings  of  his  welfare,  was 
grasping  his  sabre  under  the  command  and  near  the  person 
of  thatprince  of  vSontliern  cavaliers,  General  Wade  Hampton. 


OB,    THE   ASHES    OF    SOUTHERN    HOMES.  9 

War,  spoliation,  the  torch,  arbitrary  and  despotic  proc- 
lamations had  robbed  her  of  the  wealth  which  in  time  of 
peace  she  had  distributed  with  that  lavish  hospitality  and 
princely  charity  so  eminently  characteristic  of  the  wealthy 
Southern  matron.  The  home  she  had  inherited  from  her 
father,  upon  one  of  those  islands  early  seized  by  the  in- 
vader, had  been  despoiled,  and  desecrated  to  the  use  of 
New  England  "  reverends ; "  and  in  that  parlor  where  her 
father  had  entertained  the  Piockneys,  the  Rutledges,  the 
Elliots,  the  Prestons,  and  hundreds  of  other  bright  names 
of  tlie  Palmetto  State,  she  knew  people,  white  people  of 
Puritanic  descent,  taught  negTO  children  to  sing 

"  The  soul  of  John  Brown  is  marching  on. 
Hallelujah ! " 

Her  husband's  home  in  Northern  Georgia  had  been 
burned  to  the  ground,  in  obedience  to  that  policy  which 
marked  Shermanic  warfare,  and  which  commanded  that, 
when  a  Federal  fell  by  the  avenging  bullet  of  some  un- 
known Southerner,  all  the  houses  of  the  unoffending  citi- 
zens, for  miles  around,  should  burn  to  appease  the  manes 
of  the  slain. 

But  one  daughter,  the  beautiful  Myrtis,  had  been  born 
to  Mrs.  Preston  McDonald,  and  that  daughter  was  by  her 
side  as  she  gazed  mournfully  upon  the  departing  rear-guard 
of  their  Confederate  defenders. 

It  was  night ;  but  the  glare  of  hundreds  of  torches,  and 


10 

the  blaze  of  many  fires  feeding  upon  army  stores,  plainly 
revealed  tlie  features  of  the  mother  and  daughter  as  they 
stood  upon  the  balcony  of  their  house.  Crouching  by 
their  side,  and  peering  through  the  railing  of  the  balcony, 
was  the  aged  and  faithful  negress  Myra,  the  last  of  the 
scores  who,  a  few  years  before,  called  Mrs.  M'Donald  mis- 
tress. 

Beautiful  as  a  dream  which  enchants  the  soul,  Myrtis 
M'Donald" leaned  far  over  the  balcony,  as  if  eagerly  seek- 
ing the  face  of  some  beloved  one  amid  that  rush  of  battle- 
stained  troops.  Cavalry,  infantry,  and  artillery,  with  a  mob 
of  citizens,  all  harried  on  iu  hot  haste,  little  heed  being 
given,  in  all  that  excitement,  to  the  orders  of  the  command- 
ing officers. 

"  Boys  and  gray-haired  men,"  said  Mrs.  M'Donald,  as 
she  gazed  upon  the  living  torrent ;  "  the  last  hope  of  the 
State  has  failed  to  save  Atlanta.  Nearly  all  we  see  with 
arms  are  the  militia  of  Georgia — the  old  white-headed  sires 
and  the  beardless  boys.  They  have  been  snatched  from 
their  homes,  with  the  kisses  of  wives  and  mothers  yet 
warm  upon  their  cheeks,  to  battle  with  the  veteran  troops 
of  Shennan.  How  pale,  and  haggard,  and  worn  they 
look ! " 

"  And  should  they  not,  mother  ? "  asked  Myrtis.  "  For 
weary  weeks  they  have  been  lying  in  the  trenches,  holding 
Sherman  at  bay.  Oh,  all  honor  to  the  noble  militia  of 
Georgia !     They  have    fought  like   veterans — fought   like 


OK,    THE    ASKES    OF    SOUTHERN    HOMES.  11 

heroes  for  their  native  soil — fought  while  ragged,  half-fam- 
ished, illy  armed,  and  scarcely  able  to  stand  erect." 

"  Miss  Myrtie,  look  ober  dar,"  said  old  Myra,  pointing 
her  long,  shriveled  finger  toward  a  man  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  street,  peering  from  a  window. 

"  Oh,  Heaven ! "  exclaimed  Myrtis  M'Donald,  clinging 
to  her  mother's  arm,  as  her  eye  fell  upon  this  man ;  "  I 
thought  he  was  dead."  ^ 

*'And  I  hoped  so,"  replied  Mrs.  McDonald.  "God 
forgive  me  for  the  wish,  but  when  I  heard  that  a  Confederate 
cavalryman  had  smitten  Seth  Cashra ore's  head  from  his 
shoulders,  I  prayed  that  the  report  might  be  true." 

"  He  got  a  lick,  he  got  a  lick,  anyhow,"  said  old  Myra, 
chuckling  over  the  fact ;  "  see  de  bandage  aroun'  his  head. 
Pity  the  'Federate  didn't  cut  it  oflf !  " 

The  object  of  these  uncomplimentary  remarks,  wholly 
unconscious  of  the  disgust  his  presence  excited  upon  the 
balcony,  leaned  his  ungainly  form  far  from  the  window, 
eagerly  regarding  the  passing  troops.  The  glare  of  the 
flames  lighted  up  a  pale  and  ghastly  face  embayed  in  bushy 
whiskers  of  inky  blackness.  The  forehead,  naturally  low 
and  narrow,  was  made  still  more  so  at  the  moment  by  the 
kerchief  of  black  silk  bound  around  his  head,  leaving 
scarcely  an  inch  of  the  brow  to  be  seen  above  the  heavy 
black  eyebrows,  beneath  which  a  pair  of  large,  protruding 
eyes  glowed  like  coals  of  fire. 

The  other  features  of  the  repulsive  countenance  partook 


12  THE  MCDONALDS; 

largely  both  of  the  Hebrew  and  Yankee  caste — that  lower 
Hebrew  style  which  speaks  only  of  the  mercenary  and 
sensual ;  that  common  Yankee  type,  which  tells  of  cunning, 
cruelty,  and  unscrupulous  trickery.  The  huge,  hooked 
nose  of  the  Jew,  and  the  wide,  thin-lipped  mouth  of  the 
Yankee  pedler,  united  in  this  ghoul-like  face  like  the  dis- 
tortions of  a  comic  mask,  only  that  there  was  nothing 
comic,  but  much  that  was  cawardly  and  ferocious,  in  the 
visage. 

"  My  daughter,  he  must  not  see  us,"  hastily  renaarked 
Mrs.  M'Donald,  as  she  retired  from  the  balcony  into  the 
apartment  with  which  it  connected.     "  In,  Myrtis,  in  ! " 

"  Mother,  though  I  hate  him,  I  do  not  fear  him ; " 
replied  the  daughter.     "  Besides,  I  wish —  " 

"  I  know  your  wish,  my  child,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  M'Don- 
ald, grasping  her  arm,  and  gently  forcing  her  from  the 
balcony.  "  You  wish  to  exchange  a  parting  word  with 
Captain  Bartow,  but  he  may  not  pass  this  way — he  may  have 
gone  already — ^he  may  not  be  able  to  leave  the  hospital." 

"  Oh,  mother,  do  not  frighten  me.  If  Frank  is  able  to 
leave  the  hospital,  he  will  pass  by  our  house;  and  if  he  is 
not,  he  must  not  be  abandoned  to  the  Yankees.  His  very 
name,  Frank  Bartow,  would  bring  death  upon  him." 

"  Yonder  come  Mass'  Frank  now,"  said  Myra.  "  'Way 
up  the  street,  Miss  Myrtie,"  she  continued,  as  the  impulsive 
girl  returned  to  the  balcony. 

"I  see  him  !  I  see  him  !  I  would  know  him  am  on  or  a 


13 

million ! "  exclaimed  the  young  lady,  clasping  her  hands 
joyfully,  and  gazing  up  the  street. 

"  Yes,  yes !  and  old  ugly  ober  dar,  see  him  too,"  mut- 
tered Myra.  "He  up  to  some  mischief.  Pity  Massa 
Frank  gwine  to  come  dis  a  way.  Tears  to  me,  Mr.  Cash- 
more  got  a  pistolum  in  his  hand.  Look,  missus — ain't  he 
got  a  pistolum  ?  Sorter  hid  like,  under  his  big  han'  on  de 
winder-sill.     Dar  !  seed  it  shine  !  " 

"  Myrtis,  Myrtis !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  M'Donald,  "  I  be- 
lieve Myra  is  right.  Cashmore  means  mischief — ^he  has  a 
pistol  concealed  under  his  arm  and  hand,  as  he  leans  from 
the  window." 

"  He  -would  not  dare  shoot  at  Frank  amono^  all  those 
soldiers ! " 

"  You  know  he  hates  Captain  Bartow,  and  why  he- hates 
him — because  you  love  him,"  replied  Mrs.  McDonald. 
"  Strange  that  he  does  not  look  across  the  street  at  us  !  " 

But  Mr.  Seth  Cashmere's  attention  was  fixed  upon  the 
person  of  a  young  man  wearing  the  uniform  of  a  captain 
of  Confederate  cavalry,  who  was  slowly  riding  down  the 
street  upon  a  sorry  horse,  and  riding  with  difficulty,  for  his 
right  arm  was  in  a  sling,  and  his  air  that  of  a  man  barely 
convalescent  from  a  serious  wound. 

This  young  man,  bearing  one  of  the  most  illustrious 
names  of  Georgia,  and  not  very  distantly  related  by  blood 
to  the  noble  Georgian  who  fell  at  the  first  Manassas,  was 
Captain  Frank  Bartow,  and  the  accepted  lover  of  the  beau- 


14  THE   MCDONALDS 


tifiil  Mjrtis  M'Donald.  Like  his  illustrious  namesake 
and  kinsman,  lie  had  sprung  to  anns  at  the  first  alarm  of 
war.  One  of  those  young  heroes  of  '61,  who  from  mere 
smooth-faced  boys  have  grown  to  be  stalwart,  bearded  men 
amid  the  smoke  of  battle,  he  had  gallantly  fought  through 
three  years  and  more  of  the  mighty  struggle  in  which,  for 
so  long  a  time,  the  eight  millions  of  the  South  had  with- 
stood the  twenty  milHons  of  the  North,  backed  by  the  sur- 
plus millions  of  Europe. 

At  the  first  Manassas  he  had  seen  the  braggart  legion^, 
of  McDowell  fly  like  panic-stricken  sheep  before  Johnston 
and  Beauregard  ;  in  the  Valley,  with  immortal  Stonewall, 
he  had  seen  the  blue  hosts  of  Fremont  and  Banks  dissolve 
before  the  tactics  of  that  great  leader  like  the  smoke 
scattered  by  the  wind ;  at  Kichmond,  for  days  he  had  seen 
the  Federal  host  under  McClellan  beaten,  routed,  tossed  in 
confusion  to  the  celebrated  "  change  of  base  "  by  the  sol- 
diers of  Lee,  of  the  Hills,  of  Jackson,  and  Johnston,  and 
of  other  great  names  which  every  heart  of  the  South  bears 
engraved  in  letters  of  love  and  honor  upon  its  most  sacred 
tablets. 

Wounded  again  and  again,  as  soon  as  recovered  he  had 
returned  to  the  camp  and  field,  until  circumstances  placed 
him  in  July,  1864,  severely  wounded  in  the  right  shoulder, 
in  one  of  the  hospitals  of  Atlanta.  Convalescing  there, 
under  the  careful  attention  of  the  ladies  of  Atlanta,  and 
the  relief  committees  fi'om  every  part  of  the  patriotic  State, 


15 


\vc  see  liiin,  in  the  glare  of  torches  and  of  the  flames  of 
burning  houses,  slowly  making  his  way  along  the  fugitive- 
crowded  street,  over  which  extended  the  balcony  of  the 
last  remaining  house  of  the  M'Donalds. 

Seth  Cashmore  had  no  sooner  recognized  this  young 
man,  who  presented  a  noble  and  martial  figure,  despite  his 
feebleness,  than  his  protuberant  eyes  seemed  to  grow 
larger,  and  to  gleam  more  fiercely.  Less  cautious  than  be- 
fore, he  moved  his  arm  so  that  Mrs.  M'Donald  no  longer 
had  any  doubt  that  he  had  a  pistol,  while  his  eager  and 
restless  air  denoted  an  intention  to  attempt  some  daring 
deed. 

"  Mother,  he  certainly  means  evil  to  Frank ! "  exclaimed 
Myrtis.  "  How  shall  we  warn  poor  Frank,  whose  whole 
attention  is  occupied  in  forcing  a  way  through  the  crowd  ? 
I  must  try  to  save  him." 

With  these  words,  and  not  pausing  to  heed  the  expos- 
tulations of  her  mother,  the  brave  young  lady  rushed  back 
into  the  apartment,  and  thence  to  a  flight  of  stairs,  which 
she  descended  in  heedless  and  dangerous  haste. 

A  moment  after,  Mrs.jJ^I'Donald  beheld  her  white  hands 
stretching  toward  the  young  cavalryman,  as  her  dark  robe 
was  lost  to  sight  in  the  crowd. 

"Heaven  guard  my  child!"  thought  the  unhappy  mo- 
ther. "  Oh,  why  should  she  be  so  rash  ?  She  may  fall, 
and  be  trampled  to  death." 

Straining  her  eyes,  she  now  and  then  caught  a  glimpse 


16 

of  the  dark  glossy  curls  of  her  daughter,  apparently  tossed 
here  and  there  in  the  current  of  that  linng  stream,  or 
thought  that  she  saw  them,  as  Myrtis  struggled  on  against 
the  tide  of  fugitives,  above  which  rose  the  roar  of  flames, 
the  explosion  of  army  stores  in  various  parts  of  the  city, 
the  fierce  and  impatient  cries  of  the  soldiers  and  citizens, 
and  the  shrill  screams  of  women  and  children. 

"  My  God !  she  will  be  crushed  to  death ! "  exclaimed 
the  mother.     "  Myra !  Myra !  what  shall  we  do  ? " 

She  turned  toward  that  part  of  the  balcony  in  which 
she  had  last  seen  the  old  negi-ess,  and  started  with  alarm 
as  she  saw  that  it  was  vacant. 

The  negress  had  disappeared.  Unseen  by  her  mistress, 
Myra  had  glided  away  in  pursuit  of  Mjrtis,  and  now  was 
but  a  struo^dinor  atom  in  that  sea  of  confasion. 

"  I  can  but  pray,"  murmured  Mrs.  M'Donald,  raising 
her  eyes  to  heaven  in  eloquent  though  wordless  supplica- 
tion for  the  preservation  of  her  child. 

Numberless  had  been  the  prayers  spoken  by  her  pious 
lips,  since  the  dread  war  had  shattered  the  golden  harp  of 
domestic  harmony  and  happiness,  and  she  had  shed  bitter 
tears  over  the  untimely  death  of  her  beloved  husband,  and 
over  the  still  more  untimely  deaths  of  her  live  noble  sons, 
as  one  by  one  they  fell  before  the  sword  of  the  invader ; 
but  never  had  her  faith  in  the  wisdom  and  mercy  of  Heav- 
en been  shaken.  "  The  will  of  God  be  done  ! "  she  said, 
as  she  wept  and  when  the  first  fierce  tempest  of  grief  had 


OB,   THE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN    HOMES.  17 

swept  throngli  her  soul.     She    prayed    on   and    trusted 
ever. 

The  unshaken  piety  and  pure  morality  of  the  women 
of  the  South  throughout  that  terrible  war,  form  two  of  the 
noblest,  most  admirable  jewels  in  that  crown  of  patriotic 
glory  with  which  applauding  posterity  and  truthful  history 
will  honor  the  mothers  and  daughters  of  "The  Land  we 
love,"  the  oppressed  and  conquered  Land  of  the  South. 

The  men  of  the  South,  fired  by  their  love  for  .glory,  or 
by  ambition,  or  by  the  warlike  ardor  inherent  with  their 
birth,  rushed  to  battle  to  lose  the  agony  of  separation  from 
home  and  its  ties,  amid  the  excitements  of  the  hurried  march, 
the  war  of  conflict,  and  the  toils  of  the  retreat.  It  was  the 
infinitely  more  painful  fate  of  the  women  of  the  South,  to 
behold  theu*  beloved  ones  borne  home,  wounded  or  dead  ; 
to  see  their  wounded  restored  to  health,  only  to  see  them 
return  to  the  perils  of  war ;  to  mourn  over  their  memory  as 
they  rested  in  bloody  and  unknown  graves  ;  or  to  behold 
even  the  gTaves  of  their  beloved  dead  desecrated  by  hyena- 
hke  invaders  profaning  the  tomb  in  lawless,  brutal  search  for 
Southern  gold ;  to  meet  the  bully,  the  ruflaan,  the  tyrant 
soldiers  of  the  North,  at  their  defenceless  thresholds ;  to 
hear  their  ribald  m suits;  to  submit  to  their  commanded 
plundering;  to  witness  the  flames  of  their  homes;  to  see 
their  little  children  growing  thin  and  pale,  and  ragged, 
under  the  hand  of  want,  thrust  upon  them  with  the  point 
of  the  bayonet ;  to  bear  witness  before  the  world  and  Hcav- 


18  THE  m'dONALDS 


en,  that  the  wish  of  the  Abolition  editors  of  the  North 
had  been  made  fact  by  the  generals  they  had  bayed  into 
ojQfice — "  the  time  when  the  women  of  the  South  should 
grow  pale  and  haggard  with  hunger,  and  turn  helpless  eyes 
upon  their  starving  children  crying  for  bread." 

Such  was  the  trial,  and  more  from  which  our  pen 
recoils,  forced  upon  the  patriotic  women  of  the  South. 

And  they  bore  it  unflinchingly,  for  their  patriotism  was 
as  pure  as  the  light  of  heaven. 

But  we  must  not  pause  here  to  eulogize  that  which 
rises  far  above  all  eulogy.  Mrs.  Preston  M'Donald,  in  her 
brilliant  virtues  of  piety,  patience,  fortitude,  and  enduring 
patriotism,  is  but  a  type  of  the  Southern  women  of  South- 
ern homes,  from  the  Potomac  to  the  Rio  Grande,  and  from 
the  sea  to  the  Ohio,  and  wherever  beats  the  Southern 
heart. 

Seth  Cashmore,  one  of  those  base  and  vampire  spirits 
which  flitted  through  the  night  of  Civil  War,  and  battened 
upon  the  wants  of  the  impoverished  South,  a  speculator 
in  the  necessaries  of  life,  one  who  thoujyht  more  of  a  sack 
of  salt  than  of  a  nationality,  and  who  trampled  upon  every 
noble  principle  in  his  devilish  greed  for  money,  had  grown 
rich  at  the  South  long  before  the  sword  was  put  to  South- 
em  throats  by  Northern  fanaticism.  Originally  a  pedler, 
then  a  "  drummer,"  then  an  agent,  then  a  flourishing  mer- 
chant, and,  when  the  war  began,  a  slaveholder,  and  one  of 
the  infamous  kind,  unable  to  understanrl,  or  too  unprinci- 


OR,    THE   ASHES    OF   SOUTHEEN    HOMES.  19 

pled  to  regard  that  peculiar  mstitution  of  the  land  he  dis- 
graced, he  cursed  his  adopted  country. 

But  he  soon  turned  his  negi'oes  into  gold,  and  having 
unshaken  confidence  in  the  prowess  of  the  North,  he  care- 
fully abstained  from  all  politics,  bending  all  his  energies  to 
to  the  safer  and  more  remunerative  labor  of  the  speculator. 

But  every  fibre  of  his  soul  had  been  smitten  by  the 
beauty  of  Myrtis  M'Donald,  whose  early  lovehness  he  had 
remarked  when  she  was  but  a  child.  There  was  nothing 
in  his  face  or  form  to  create  liking,  much  less  love,  and  yet 
he,  like  all  extremely  ugly  men,  believed  he  had  many 
notable  points  of  beauty.  Besides,  he  was  rich,  and  the 
time,  when  the  M'Donalds  were  richer  than  he,  had  passed. 
Some  men  become  infatuated  with  an  idea,  and  in  riding  a 
hobby  commit  a  thousand  incredible  follies.  For  that  idea 
they  have  plunged  a  nation  into  a  sea  of  ruin.  But 
Seth  Cash  m  ore's  idea  savored  nothing  of  politics.  True, 
he  hated  the  South  and  the  Southerners.  That  was  natu- 
ral, for  he  hailed  from  the  very  shadow  of  the  Rock  of 
Plymouth,  and  probably  played  marbles  with  young  free 
negroes  in  his  youth.  But  his  idea  was  to  be  the  husband 
of  the  handsomest  woman  in  the  South,  to  take  her  North, 
to  parade  the  Southern  belle  as  his  captive,  to  tell  how  that 
beauty  was  of  the  first  families  of  Republican  aristocracy ; 
and,  having  concluded  that  Miss  Myitis  M'Donald  was  the 
loveliest  girl  in  Dixie,  he  had  resolved  to  make  her  his  wife. 
In  forming  this  resolution  he  dwelt  so   long  upon   it,  that 


20  THE  MCDONALDS  ; 

tlie  resolve  became  his  idea,  his  passion,  and,  as  he  believed, 
his  destiny. 

Poverty,  extreme  poverty,  had  fallen  upon  the  McDon- 
alds during  the  siege  of  Atlanta.  There  had  been  times 
when  for  days  both  mother  and  daughter  had  Hved  upon 
meal  and  water. 

It  cannot  be  denied  that  at  such  times  of  distress  they 
remembered  the  lavish  profusion  of  the  M'Donald  table  in 
times  of  peace ;  remembered  it  with  heavy  hearts,  and 
eager  longings  for  that  by-gone  abundance.  Yet  their 
patriotism  never  wavered  nor  faltered.  Had  Atlanta  been 
a  walled  city,  and  had  the  warfare  been  that  of  ancient 
days,  history  would  have  recorded  that  the  fiery  patriotism 
of  the  women  of  the  South  was  no  less  than  that  of  the 
women  of  Carthage,  or  Rome,  or  Greece. 

It  was  in  these  days  of  suffering  that  Seth  Cashmore 
bad  built  high  hopes  of  success,  and  in  the  guise  of  a 
sincere  friend  he  had  visited  the  poverty-stricken  family. 
The  widow  needed  a  friend,  the  maiden  needed  a  protector. 
He  would  be  that  friend  ;  he  would  be  that  protector ;  in- 
deed, he  would  be  the  guardian  angel  of  that  house,  shel- 
tering beneath  his  shielding  wings  even  the  humble  negress. 

The  speculator,  had  he  been  sincere,  would  have  gained 
esteem  and  gratitude,  and  perhaps  friendship — though  there 
was  a  curse  upon  him  from  Nature's  hand,  an  intrusive, 
bustUng  air  of  pompous  pretension,  which  repelled  friend- 
ship, and  produced  indifference  "if  not  dislike — dislike  if 


21 

not  disgust,  and  disgust  if  not  hate.  The  rumor  of  his 
many  deeds  of  grinding  oppression  upon  the  wives  and 
children  of  Confederate  soldiers,  had  preceded  his  intrusion 
upon  the  poverty  of  the  M'Donalds,  and  they  met  his  prof- 
fers of  assistance  with  a  dignified  refusal.  But  Seth  Cash- 
more  was  not  a  man  to  be  rebuffed  by  dignified  bearing. 
He  was  of  that  lower  stratum  of  mortaUty  which  must 
have  its  nose  pulled,  or  its  face  slapped,  or  perceive  the 
uprising  of  an  indignant  foot,  before  it  can  be  made  to 
understand  that  it  is  an  object  of  contempt. 

The  M'Donalds,  steeped  to  the  lips  in  poverty,  all  the 
more  feeble  in  the  fierce  struggle  between  Pride  and  Want, 
because  they  had  been  precipitated  from  affluence  to  penury, 
were  forced  to  accept  his  pretended  generosity,  and  as  he, 
like  all  his  class,  possessed  a  wheedling,  persuasive  tongue, 
he  gradually  beat  down  the  barriers  of  dislike  and  disgust 
encountered  on  his  first  approach. 

Had  he  paused  there,  Seth  Cashmore  might  have  dwelt 
upon  the  minds  of  the  M'Donalds  as  a  kind  and  charitable 
man,  and  found  himself  so  esteemed  by  them,  at  least. 
But  presuming,  as  viler  natures  ever  will,  upon  the  warmth 
of  grateful  words,  he  mistook  his  worth  and  demanded  love. 

It  was  to  Mrs.  Preston  M'Donald  that  the  speculator 
made  known  his  aspirations,  and  though  the  propositions, 
however  elegantly  expressed,  would  have  startled  her,  they 
were  revolting  to  every  refined  sentiment  of  her  soul  as  he 
declared  them. 


22  TUE    MCDONALDS; 

"  Mrs.  M'Donald,  I  have  a  proposal  to  make,"  he  said, 
in  advancing  his  desires,  and  speaking  in  the  same  tone 
and  manner  he  would  have  used  in  buying  or  selling  any 
of  the  articles  in  which  he  speculated.  "  You  see  you  and 
Miss  Myrtis  are  very  hard  up.  You  have  lost  every  thing, 
down  to  that  old  nigger  woman,  who  wouldn't  fetch  two 
hundred  dollars  in  Confed'.  Now,  I  am  quite,  or  more  so, 
well  oft'.  Miss  Myrtis  pleases  my  notion — she  does,  and 
if  you  and  she  have  no  objection,  I  am  ready." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,  Mr.  Cashmore  ! "  exclaimed 
the  surprised  widow. 

"  Well,  I  ain't  so  clear  in  expressing  myself  in  a  thing 
of  this  kind,  as  I  am  in  taking  salt  by  the  car-load,"  said 
Seth,  quailing  a  little  before  a  sudden  fire  which  he  had 
never  seen  in  those  handsome  dark  eyes  until  then.  "  You 
see  I  am  a  bachelor,  going  on  right  smartly  toward  forty 
years,  though  you  may  look  my  head  over  for  a  month  and 
never  find  a  gray  hair — and  I  think  I  can  aff'ord  to  marry, 
in  spite  of  the  war ;  and,  of  all  the  women,  old  or  young. 
Miss  Myrtis  caps  my  idea  of  what  I  want  my  wife  to  be. 
You  are  all  living  very  hard,  and  the  Yankees  will  soon 
make  it  harder.  Atlanta's  bound  to  go  up,  so's  the  Con- 
federacy." 

"  Mr.  Cashmore,"  interrupted  Mrs.  M'Donald,  "  my 
daughter  has  not  been  informed." 

"  That'll  all  be  right ! "  broke  in  Cashmore,  with  a 
broad,  coarse  laugh  of  cunning.     "  I  only  want  your  con- 


23 


sent  first,  and  I  think  you  and  me  can  soon  manage  tlie 
rest." 

"  Mr.  Cashmore,  I  am  very  glad  to  learn  that  my  daugh- 
ter has  been  spared  the  mortification  of  any  advances  up- 
on your  part,"  replied  Mrs.  M'Donald,  in  a  stately  tone, 
which  vibrated  through  his  soul  and  gave  him  a  keen  ap- 
preciation of  his  insignificance.  "  Miss  Myrtis  M'Donald 
is  the  aflSanced  wife  of  Captain  Frank  Bartow,  and  of 
course  this  conversation  must  cease." 

"  AflSanced  wife  ?  Oh,  that  means  she  is  already 
spoken  for.  Yes,  I  have  heard  that  he  was  a  little  spooney 
about  Miss  Myrtis.  But  that's  all  a  mere  trifle.  You  and 
me—" 

"  Mr.  Cashmore,  you  have  twice  coupled  my  name  with 
yours.  I  reject  this  proposed  intimacy.  Do  not  speak  to 
me  again  upon  this  subject ;  and,  since  you  have  spoken 
as  you  have,  sir,  I  have  no  desire  to  hear  you  upon  any 
subject." 

"  Just  so,"  sneered  the  rebuked  speculator,  at  last  rec- 
o'^nizing  his  position.  "  But  I  guess  you'll  think  better 
before  many  days.  This  is  always  the  way  with  you  once 
*  somebodies '  of  the  South.  No  more  gratitude  for  charity 
than  cows  for  cabbage — " 

Mrs.  M'Donald  did  not  remain  to  listen  to  the  coarse 
insults  of  the  angry  speculator,  but  swept  from  the  room, 
leaving  him  to  vent  his  spleen  upon  the  bare  walls. 

They  were  bare,  and  this  fact  formed  the  burden  of 


24 


the  wretched  creature's  soliloquy  as  he  drew  on  his  gloves 
to  depart. 

"  She's  as  proud  as  if  she  had  a  thousand  niggers,  as 
many  as  that  rehel  kinsman  of  hers,  Wade  Hampton, 
whom  I  hope  Phil  Sheridan  will  catch  and  hang  very  soon. 
Proud  of  what,  Pd  like  to  know  ?  Proud  of  this  empty 
house — it's  all  she's  got,  and  I  hold  a  mortgage  on  it 
Bare  floors,  bare  walls!  Tore  up  your  carpets  to  make 
blankets  for  rebel  rascals,  eh  ?  Tore  down  your  curtains 
to  make  shirts  and  the  like  for  rebel  dogs,  eh  ?  Tore  out 
the  lead  window-weights  to  make  bullets  for  rebel  mus- 
kets, eh  ?  Sold  all  your  ornaments  and  paintings,  except 
your  family  portraits,  to  buy  Confederate  bonds,  to  bolster 
up  old  Memminger's  shinplasters,  eh  ?  Sold  and  gave 
away  all  your  plate  and  jeweliy  to  aid  the  Southern  Con- 
federacy, eh  ?  Gave  all  your  fine  linen  to  wounded  rebels, 
eh?  Wear  homespun  and  coarse  jeans,  and  eat  meal  and 
drink  water  for  love  of  Southern  independence,  eh  ?  More 
fool  you,  and  all  like  you.  Wait  until  old  Sherman  turns 
his  boys  loose  on  your  ragged,  worm-eaten  Confederacy, 
and  you  will  understand  what  patriotism  means.  He 
wasn't  Pxamed  Tecumseh  for  nothing,  mind  that.  I  am 
turned  off,  am  I  ?  Very  well,  I  think  this  establishment 
owes  me  something.  As  for  the  mortgage,  that'll  have  to 
rest  until  after  the  war." 

Consoling  his  wounded  vanity  with  these  savory  mor- 
sels of  reflection,  Mr.  Seth  Cashmore  returned  to  his  store 


OB,   THE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN    HOMES.  25 

and  amused  himself  with  the  woes  and  wants  of  scores  of 
famishing  women  and  children,  as  he  drove  extortion- 
ate bargains  with  them  for  the  relics  of  their  former 
means. 

But  his  evil  fortune  would  not  allow  him  to  remain  sat- 
isfied with  the  dismissal  from  Mrs.  M'Donald,  and  the  more 
he  dwelt  upon  that  fact  the  more  he  resolved  to  persevere. 
The  dismissal  made  the  object  of  his  passion  more  valuable 
in  his  eyes,  and  he  had  effrontery  enough  to  propose  to  Miss 
Myrtis.  Being  rejected  very  politely  by  the  young  lady, 
he  pressed  his  claims  with  such  vehemence  as  to  arouse 
her  anger,  and  then  he  received  so  severe  a  reprimand  for 
his  boldness  and  coarseness,  that  he  retorted  with  threats 
and  sneers. 

This  happened  a  few  days  before  Captain  Bartow  was 
wounded,  as  we  have  already  stated,  and  Mr.  Setli  Cash- 
more's  conduct  was  duly  reported  to  the  young  cavalry- 
man by  old  Myra,  in  a  moment  of  indignation. 

Mr.  Cashmore,  in  walking  Whitehall  Street  one  evening, 
after  personally  dunning  Mrs.  M'Donald  for  what  he  had 
done  in  the  way  of  meal,  flour,  etc.,  as  a  friend,  claiming 
its  value  as  a  debt,  since  his  alhance  was  refused,  was  over- 
taken by  a  tall  young  gentleman  with  a  fierce  mustache, 
and  a  fiercer  pair  of  hazel  eyes,  who  wore  the  uniform  of  a 
Confederate  captain. 

A  smart  tap  upon  the  shoulder  caused  Mr.  Cashmore 
to  pause  and  face  this  gentleman,  who  was  unknown  to  him. 


26 


"Mr.  Seth  Cashmore,  I  believe?"  said  the  oflBcer, 
in  a  very  steady  tone,  though  his  eyes  sparkled  omi- 
nously. 

"  Yes,  I  am  Seth  Cashmore.  Who  are  you  ? ''  replied 
the  pompous  and  coarse-mannered  speculator,  not  perceiv- 
ing that  the  ofiScer  held  something  behind  him,  that  some- 
thing being  very  similar  to  that  implement  which  Brooks 
of  South  Carolina  introduced  to  the  notice  of  Charles  Sum- 
ner of  Massachusetts. 

"  I  am  Frank  Bartow,  captain  in  the  Confederate  ser- 
vice. You  have  heard  of  me,  I  imagine.  I  think  it  my 
duty  to  inform  you  publicly,  that  you  are  a  cowardly  scoun- 
drel, and  deserve  a  pubhc  flogging." 

With  these  words  Frank  Bartow  grasped  Seth  Cash- 
more  by  the  whiskers,  and  then  and  there  administered 
one  of  the  heartiest  and  severest  castigations  ever  received 
by  a  speculator,  and  which  was  received  by  Seth  Cashmore 
with  divers  yells  and  contortions  delightful  to  hear  and  to 
behold. 

The  administration  of  justice  did  not  cease  until  the 
implement  used  was  shattered  to  the  grasp  of  the  in- 
flictor. 

On  beinof  freed  from  the  iron  clutch  of  that  indiojnant 
hand,  Mr.  Seth  Cashmore  did  not  anticipate  the  stoical 
philosophy  of  Grinnell,  lately  dressed  in  a  similar  style  of 
stripes  by  General  Rousseau.  He  did  not  stoop  to  pick 
up  one  of  the  fragments  of  the  cane  shattered  upon  his 


OB,   THE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN    HOMES  27 

face,  and  say,  "  I  will  take  this  home  to  my  wife,"  as  did 
Mr.  Grinnell,  for  Setli  had  no  wife,  nor  had  he  tlie  stoicism 
of  that  milk-and-water  Congressman,  but  he  had  heels,  and 
he  took  to  tliem  with  an  alacrity  truly  refreshing  to  behold, 
pursued  by  the  hoots  and  screams  of  half  a  regiment  of 
derisive  urchins  of  Atlanta. 

Seth  Cashmore  was  of  too  malicious  and  revengeful  a 
nature  not  to  resent  this  just  punishment,  but  he  was  spi- 
der-like in  his  resentment.  He  plotted  and  waited.  lie 
wove  his  web  and  watched. 

A  few  days  after  this  scene  Captain  Frank  Bar- 
tow was  severely  wounded,  and  became  an  inmate  of 
the  hospital.  Thus  Seth  Cashmore  derived  some  com- 
fort; but  he  felt  that  he  could  not  go  whining  about, 
showinor    his   scars    in  the    fashion   of    the    before-men- 

o 

tioned  Charles  Sumner,  and  that  nothing  less  than 
the  death  of  his  enemy  could  soothe  his  aches  and 
bruises. 

To  add  to  his  desire  for  revenge,  it  chanced  that  he 
aroused  the  ire  of  a  cavalryman  in  attempting  to  overreach 
the  soldier  in  a  tobacco  trade,  and  thereupon  received  a  sar 
bre-cut  on  the  head,  which  laid  him  out  as  dead  for  hours. 
On  regaining  his  senses  he  learned  that  one  of  his  stores 
had  been  plundered,  even  to  the  cellar,  by  cavalrymen. 
Therefore  he  had  Httle  love  for  cavalrymen,  and  especially 
for  Captain  Bartow,  to  yhom  he  falsely  attributed  all  his 
calamities. 


28  THE  MCDONALDS  ; 

The  reader  may  now  perceive  why  Mr.  Seth  Caslimore 
watched  with  evil  intent  as  Frank  Bartow  slowly  rode  down 
that  crowded  street  of  Atlanta,  on  the  night  of  September 
1st,  1864. 


29 


CHAPTER    II 


THE    ATTEMPT. 


Mr.  Seth  Cashmore  was  well  informed  of  the  move- 
ments going  on  throughout  the  city,  and  having  resolved 
to  cast  himself  into  the  Federal  bosom,  and  knowing  that 
the  M'Donalds  were  unable  to  leave  the  city  before  the 
Federals  would  march  in,  determined  to  have  one  shot  at 
least  at  the  lover  of  Myrtis. 

He  had  seen  the  mother  and  daughter  on  the  balcony 
long  before  they  perceived  him,  and  knew  very  well  why 
Myrtis  McDonald  gazed  so  eagerly  up  the  street,  but  it  was 
no  part  of  his  plans  that  they  should  suspect  that  he  had 
seen,  or  was  thinking  of  them.  He  knew  that  Captain  Bar- 
tow would  pass  along  that  street,  and  pause  beneath  that 
balcony  to  bid  farewell  to  Miss  McDonald,  and  he  felt  con- 
fident that  he  could  drive  a  ball  through  the  lover's  body — 
firing  from  that  window.  He  had  calculated  all  the 
chances  for  escape,  and  had  his  cunning  hiding-places  if 
pursued.  But  amid  all  that  confusion,  with  the  rear-guard 
of  the  Confederate  army  evacuating — that  rear-guard  prin- 


30  THE   MCDONALDS  ; 

cipally  undisciplined  militia — the  whole  city  in  alarm  and 
disorder,  a  victorious  army  ready  to  dash  in  to  plunder  the 
place,  the  disturbance  incident  to  the  vast  destruction  al- 
ready gomg  on — with  all  these  to  obscure  the  deed  and 
aid  his  hiding  until  no  Confederate  remained  to  avenge, 
there  was,  apparently,  little  danger  in  making  a  leaden  pel- 
let settle  his  difficulty  very  satisfactorily  with  Captain  Frank 
Bartow. 

It  was  veiy  true  that  the  M'Donalds  might,  and  in  all 
probability  would  know  Seth  Cashmore  to  be  the  assassin. 
No  care  for  that.  They  would  be  more  than  ever  at  his 
mercy  within  twenty-four  hours,  for  he  had  powerful  friends 
out  there  in  that  great  Federal  army,  raging  to  leap  upon 
the  defenceless  city — indeed,  his  services  as  a  spy  in  the 
Confederate  camp  were  well  known  to  Sherman  hunself, 
and  his  name  was  recorded  yonder  at  Washington  in  the 
shadow  of  the  great  man  w^ho  "rang  a  little  bell,"  as  a 
good  and  loyal  Union  man. 

To  kill  a  rebel  captain,  then,  would  be  a  card  of  honor 
for  Mr.  Seth  Cashmore,  although  the  deed  might  well  be 
called  rank  assassination,  and  place  him  still  higher  in  the 
esteem  of  some  of  his  Federal  friends. 

The  house  in  which  he  lurked  was  empty.  Its  former 
occupants  had  fled,  after  losing  a  mother  and  a  little  child 
by  the  explosion  of  one  of  Sherman's  missiles  of  love  and 
humanity,  so  much  in  unison  with  that  policy  with  which 
he  waged  the  war  for  the  restoration  of  the  Union. 


OR,   THE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN    HOMES.  31 

Leading  from  the  yard  in  the  rear  of  the  house  was  a 
narrow  alley,  opening  upon  a  back  street.  The  deed  ac- 
complished, he  could  easily  fly  through  the  house,  the  yard, 
the  alley,  and  from  the  street  find  one  of  his  hiding-places, 
among  other  "  loyal  Union  men,"  who  were  impatiently 
awaiting  the  hour  when  they  could  fling  to  the  breeze  those 
long-hidden  flags  of  stars  and  stripes. 

Thus  confident,  he  awaited  the  slow  approach  of  his  in- 
tended victim. 

Captain  Frank  Bartow's  attention  had  been  fully  occu- 
pied in  picking  his  way  along  the  rushing  mass,  until  he 
reached  a  spot  about  fifty  yards  distant  from  the  residence 
of  the  M'Donalds,  when  he  raised  his  eyes  and  looked  tow- 
ard the  balcony.  He  saw  the  well-known  form  and  face 
of  Mrs.  M'Donald,  and  supposed  that  his  betrothed  was 
also  there.  The  crowd,  from  some  unknown  cause,  now 
seemed  to  recoil  upon  itself,  and  thus  a  dense  mass  of  horses 
and  human  beings  was  held  almost  stationary  between  him 
and  the  balcony,  while  the  cries  of  impatience  and  confu- 
sion were  redoubled. 

No  doubt  there  were  many  in  the  mob  eager  to  reach 
the  burning  stores,  that  they  might  plunder.  There  were 
many  half-famished  women  there  who  had  heard  that  army 
stores  of  meal,  flour,  and  meat  were  being  given  away, 
thrown  away,  destroyed,  and  they  added  the  clamor  of 
their  shrill  voices  to  the  sounds  of  the  tumult. 

Upon  these  poor  creatures,  who  were  half  crazed  by 


32 


the  tciiiblc  calamities  war  bad  forced  upou  them,  Frank 
Bartow  bent  a  pitying  gaze.  But  in  casting  his  eyes 
about  they  suddenly  encountered  a  face,  the  sight  of  which 
caused  his  heart  to  leap  to  his  throat.  There  in  the  very 
centre  of  the  crowd,  whither  her  struggles  had  forced  her, 
be  recognized  the  beautiful  face  of  Myrtis  M'Donald,  and 
though  he  could  not  distinguish  her  words,  he  knew  she 
was  speaking,  and  earnestly,  while  with  one  hand  she 
pointed  toward  some  object  above  the  street. 

The  progress  of  the  throng  had  now  carried  him  within 
twenty  yards  of  the  balcony.  Myrtis  M'Donald  had  found 
it  impossible  to  stem  the  torrent  which  swept  fiercely  tow- 
ard the  burning  stores.  The  cun-ent  had  overcome  her 
strength  and  begun  to  bear  her  along  with  it. 

She  would  have  fallen  and  probably  have  perished 
there,  had  not  old  Myra,  strong  though  aged,  now  reached 
her  side  and  battled  to  aid  her  in  regaining  the  pavement. 

It  was  at  that  moment  that  Frank  Bartow  recognized 
his  betrothed,  and  noticed  that  she  was  pointing  at  some- 
thing: above  the  level  of  the  crowd. 

Meanwhile  Mrs.  M'Donald  had  succeeded  in  distin- 
guishing the  head  of  her  daughter,  just  as  the  faithful  Myra 
had  forced  her  way  to  the  side  of  her  young  mistress.  She 
could  see  that  her  daughter  was  gesticulating  violently,  and 
pointing  toward  the  window  occupied  by  Seth  Cashmore. 
Turning  her  own  eyes  in  that  direction,  she  saw  Cashmore 
grasp  and  level  his  pistol — saw  the  flash,  but  could  not  dis- 


OR,    THE   ASHES   OF    SOUTHERN    HOMES. 


33 


tinguish  the  report  amid  that  Babel  of  sounds,  especially  as 
Cashmore  had  stepped  a  pace  or  two  back  from  the  window 
at  the  instant  before  he  fired.  She  then  glanced  toward 
Captain  Frank  Bartow  and  saw  that  he  was  lying  with  his 
face  upon  the  neck  of  his  horse,  and  apparently  clinging  to 
the  mane  of  the  animal,  as  if  wounded. 

"  Oh  Heaven  !  Frank  Bartow  is  shot ! "  exclaimed  Mrs. 
M'Donald. 

But  this  apprehension  was  removed  the  next  instant, 
as  she  saw  the  young  officer  resume  his  erect  seat  in  the 
saddle  and  extend  his  hand  toward  My rtis  M'Donald,  with 
a  smile  upon  his  face. 

But  Seth  Cashmore  darted  fi'om  the  window  rejoicing 
in  the  belief  that  his  shot  had  proved  true.  He  had  seen 
Captain  Bartow  fall  upon  the  neck  of  his  horse  at  the  in- 
stant he  drew  trigger,  and,  supposing  that  he  had  severely, 
if  not  mortally,  wounded  him,  instantly  betook  himself  to 
flight.  Captain  Bartow,  however,  had  seen  him  level  the 
pistol,  and,  accustomed  to  such  attacks,  threw  himself  out 
of  range,  and  escaped  unhurt. 

"I  owe  my  life  to  your  devotion,  My  rtis,"  he  said,  as 
he  at  length  reached  her  side  and  clasped  her  hand.  "  Had 
I  not  seen  your  warning  at  the  instant  I  did,  that  coward's 
bullet  would  have  struck  me  down." 

"  And  but  for  the  assistance  of  our  brave  old  Myra," 
replied  Miss  M'Donald,  warmly,  "  I  would  have  fallen  and 
been  trampled  upon  before  I  caught  your  eye." 


34:  THE    m'dONALDS 


They  were  now  immediately  under  the  balcony,  and 
Mrs.  McDonald,  leaning  over,  cried  out : 

"  Come  up,  my  daughter !  Come  up,  Captain  Bartow." 

"  Unless  your  mother  can  invent  some  way  by  which  T 
can  cany  my  horse  up  with  me,"  said  Captain  Bartow, 
with  a  smile,  to  Myrtis,  "I  must  decline  the  invitation. 
My  horse  is  a  very  sorry  one,  though  I  gave  a  fine  gold 
watch  for  him,  and  he  is  my  only  means  of  leaving  the 
city.  The  Yankees  will  occupy  the  city  before  to-morrow 
night,  and  I  have  no  desire  to  try  the  Federal  hospitalities 
of  Camp  Chase,  or  Fort  Delaware,  or  any  other  quarters  of 
that  kind.  Had  I  been  able  to  attend  to  this  matter,  I 
would  have  pronded  means  for  you  and  your  mother  to 
leave  the  city." 

'•  Oh,  we  both  know  that,  Frank,"  replied  Miss  McDon- 
ald. "  But  until  to-day  dear  mother  has  been  confined  to 
her  bed,  for  nearly  a  week,  and  is  not  strong  enough  to 
encounter  the  fatigue  of  a  flight.  Besides,  we  seem  to  be 
followed  by  misfortune  in  the  shape  of  Yankees." 

"  An',  Lor'  bless  my  soul ! "  broke  in  old  Myra,  with 
the  privilege  of  a  faithful  sciTant,  "  dem  Yankees  is  de 
greatest  misfortune  dat  eber  cussed  de  Souf.  Massa  Frank, 
we  refugeed  from  the  islan's,  case  dem  Yankees  gib  de  old 
family  home  to  niggers  for  a  schoolhous' — drat  all  sich 
idees !  then  we  refugeed  from  Rome,  case  de  Yankees 
piled  in  dar,  and  now  the  Yankees  gwine  to  pile  in  he-yar ! 
Why  can't  dey  jus  mind  dar  own  illegitimate  business." 


OR,   THE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN   HOMES.  35 

"  It  is  the  business  of  the  Yankee  to  mind  the  business 
of  others — at  least  they  so  construe  the  Constitution,"  said 
Captain  Bartow.  "  But,  Myrtis,  as  soon  as  the  health  of 
your  mother  will  permit,  I  hope  you  will  leave  Atlanta." 

"  To  go  where,  my  dear  sir  ? "  asked  Mrs.  McDonald, 
who,  finding  that  the  lovers  would  not  ascend  to  the  bal- 
cony, had  descended  to  take  part  in  the  conversation. 
"  This  is  our  last  house,  if  indeed  we  may  claim  it  as  ours, 
for  I  have  heard  that  Seth  Cashmore  says  that  he  holds  a 
mortgage  on  it.  I  know  my  husband  once  had  dealings 
with  this  fellow  Cashmore — it  was  in  1861,  to  raise  money 
in  uniforming  and  equipping  military  companies,  and  per- 
haps Cashmore  does  hold  a  mortgage.  Our  home  on  the 
islands  is  in  Yankee  and  negro  hands  ;  our  home  in  Rome, 
and  our  plantation  in  Cherokee,  are  also  in  the  same  hos- 
tile possession.  Our  relatives  in  Georgia  and  in  South 
Carolina  are  all  hard  pressed,  many  ruined.  I  think  some- 
what seriously  of  going  to  Columbia,  South  Carolina, 
where — " 

"  Dem  Yankees  gwine  dar  sure  ! "  cried  old  Myra,  who 
was  as  good  a  prophetess  as  could  be  found  in  any  editor's 
sanctum,  and  better  than  the  majority.  "  I  tell  you, 
missus,  dar's  no  use  a  try  in'  to  run  from  dem  blue  locusses 
— day  gwine  to  swarm  ober  and  devour  de  fat  and  de  lean 
ob  de  Souf.  Dat's  what  God  made  dem  for — dcy's  a  cuss  ! 
Columby  ?  Why  de  Yankees  would  go  clean  crazy,  missus, 
if  dis  war  ended  widout  a  chance  to  ruinate  and  abominate 


36 


Columby.  De  Yankees  hates  all  the  Souf,  but  the  Lor' ! 
hate  ain't  de  word  for  what  dey  thinks  ob  de  Souf 
K'leenians!  You  go  to  Columby,  an'  dar'll  you'll  see 
Sodom  an'  Jeremiah  de  way  de  Yankees  fixes  it  up.  Mind 
old  mommie — she's  a  nigger,  but  she  knows  de  Yankees 
from  de  har  ob  dare  head  to  de  horn  ob  dare  heel.  'Sides, 
she  knows  General  Sherman." 

"  Ah !  you  have  that  pleasure  !  "  said  Captain  Bartow, 
laughing. 

"  I  knows  him  !  I  knows  him  !  "  cried  old  Myra,  wag- 
ging her  head ;  "  missus  does  too." 

"  I !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  M'Donald. 

"Yes,  missus.  Do  we  forget  that  time  you  visited 
Louisiana?  General  Sherman  used  to  keep  school  dar. 
He  came  Souf  to  make  an  honest  livin'  ;  s'pose  he  found 
no  chance  to  do  dat  in  the  Norf,  so  he  teached  de  Louisi- 
ana children  how  to  read  an'  write,  an'  skypher,  an'  all  dat 
sort  ob  thing.  He  made  money  at  dat — de  Yankees  make 
money  at  pisening  bed-bugs — course  he  make  money  and 
go  back  to  de  N'orf.  Now  he  turn  up  wid  a  million  and  a 
haf  of  blue  locusses  wid  de  intention  ob  makin'  us  see  stars 
and  feel  de  stripes  ob  de  flag  ob  de  Union !  I  seed  him 
in  Louisiana — keen,  little  eyes — sharp!  You  look  out, 
folkses!" 

While  the  old  negress  continued  to  rattle  off  her  ideas 
of  the  here  of  the  Grand  March,  Captain  Bartow  advised 
Mrs.  M'Donald  not  to  go  to  Columbia. 


37 

Heaven  only  knows  where  Shennan  may  halt,"  said 
he.  "  Now  that  Atlanta  falls  into  his  hands,  he  may  push 
sti'aight  on  for  Augusta,  and  thence  to  Columbia.  Tlie 
State  of  Georgia  is  now  at  his  mercy  ;  he  may  not  know 
it,  and  may  delay  here  in  Atlanta  for  months,  merely  to 
ravage  the  country.  The  Fates  are  plainly  against  our 
cause  at  this  time,  though  the  wheel  of  Fortune  may  take 
a  turn  and  bring  us  uppermost.  Let  us  hope  so,  at  least, 
and  continue  the  struggle  as  long  as  the  Army  of  Vu'ginia 
and  its  heroic  generals  bear  up  our  sinking  flag.  I  shall 
soon  be  strong  enough,  I  hope,  to  take  the  field  again." 

"  Ah,  you  are  ever  mindful  of  the  dying  words  of  the 
noble  Francis  Bartow :  '  They've  killed  me,  boys — ^but  never 
give  it  up  I '  Brave  and  gallant  gentleman,  I  knew  him 
well.  '  I  go  to  illustrate  Georgia ; '  and  nobly  did  your 
gallant  kinsman  illustrate  his  State ;  and  if  ever  the  time 
comes  when  no  Yankee  satrap  can  issue  orders  which  in 
Southern  ears  sound  like  hyenas  growling  over  the  bones 
of  dead  men,  Georgia's  sons  and  daughters  will  vie  in 
erecting  a  stately  monument  to  the  memory  of  her  noble 
dead,  among  whose  hallowed  names  the  least  shall  not  be 
General  Francis  S.  Bartow." 

"  He  died  like  a  Bayard,"  replied  the  young  ofllcer, 
"  and  in  the  first  great  battle  of  the  war.  May  the  same 
noble  pride  in  the  honor  and  integi-ity  of  his  State,  and  the 
same  high  Southern  patriotism  be  mine,  though  my  life 
like  his,  should  seal  that  devotion  !  " 


38  THE   MCDONALDS; 

"Massa  General  Bartow  bery  rash,  bery  rash,"  said  old 
Myra,  "  doe  I  mus'  say  dat  anybody  what  puts  hisself  in  de 
way  ob  bullets,  is  rash.  S'pose  dat's  patriotism.  All  right. 
Got  to  whip  dem  blue  locusses  or  hab  noffin  lef  to  pray 
for.  But  no  need,  Massa  Frank,  of  yer  bcin'  preboister- 
ously  rash  in  dat  way." 

"  The  blue  locusts  you  speak  of,  Myra,  compel  us  to  be 
rash.  Their  guns  are  of  such  long  range,  and  shoot  so 
many  times,  that  our  soldiers  do  not  have  fair  play.  But  I 
must  now  bid  you  farewell,  Mrs.  M'Donald.  I  expect  to 
join  the  command  of  General  "VYheeler,  as  soon  as  I  can 
bear  fatigue.  Should  you  leave  Atlanta,  try  to  communi- 
cate with  me.  It  is  diflBcult  to  advise  you  where  to  go  for 
permanent  safety.  The  whole  State  will  probably  be  over- 
run by  marauding  parties,  as  that  is  the  policy  of  the 
Federal  generals.  But  excuse  me  for  the  presumption, 
what  Confederate  money  may  you  have  ? " 

"That  is  soon  answered,  Frank,"  exclaimed  Myrtis, 
with  less  pride  than  her  mother  in  the  matter.  "  Seth 
Cashmore  received  our  last  Confederate  dollar,  or  rather  his 
clerk,  yesterday,  in  payment  of  what  Cashmore  called  a  gift 
when  he  brought  it  to  our  house." 

"  And  you  are  remaining  in  Atlanta  without  a  dol- 
lar?" 

"At  least,  there  are  hundreds  as  poor,"  said  Mrs. 
M'Donald.  "  True,  we  have  a  few  family  relics  in  the  shape 
of  mourning  rings,  aud  I  think  Myrtis  has  a  golden  napkin 


OR,    THE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN   HOMES.  39 

ring  which  General  John  Preston  gave  her  when  her  first 
birthday  came  round." 

"You  cannot  live  long  upon  them,"  remarked  Captain 
Bartow,  drawing  a  ring  from  his  finger.  "  Will  Myrtis  ac- 
cept this  from  Frank,  who  may  never  see  her  again  ?  It  is 
a  diamond,  and  I  think  valued  at  two  hundred  dollars  in 
gold,  before  the  war — " 

"Oh,  Frank!  it  was  your  father's?"  cried  Myrtis. 

"  Very  true.  It  is  really  all  the  Yankees  have  left  of 
all  he  gave  me,  except  bare  land  and  black  ashes,"  replied 
the  young  ofiicer ;  "  and  if  I  wear  it,  it  is  very  probable 
they  may  rifle  me  of  that,  for  I  anticipate  hot  cavaliy  fight- 
ing under  Wheeler;  and  like  General  Joe  Johnston,  it  is 
always  my  luck  to  be  wounded.  Keep  it,  my  dear  girl — it 
may  go  far  to  aid  you  and  your  mother  during  the  dark 
days  ahead.     No  !   I  will  not  take  it  back." 

Perceiving  the  firmness  of  his  tone,  and  knowing  him 
to  be  very  resolute,  the  beautiful  girl  placed  it  upon  her 
thumb,  her  tiny  fingers  being  all  too  small  for  the  ring,  and 
resolved  that  nothing  save  grim  starvation  in  all  its  horrors, 
should  force  it  from  her. 

"  Farewell !  and  may  Heaven  guard  you,  Mrs.  M'Donald, 
and  grant  you  a  speedy  deliverance  from  the  mercies  of 
Sherman  and  his  army.     And  you,  too,  dear  Myrtis." 

He  bent  from  the  saddle,  and  pressed  a  respectful  kiss 
upon  the  cheek  of  the  weeping  widow,  whose  firmness  gave 
way  in  parting  with  one  who  seemed  almost  a  son. 


40  THE  m'donalds  ; 

Regardless  of  the  place  and  the  time,  the  warm-hearted 
Southern  gh-1  threw  her  white  arms  around  her  lover's 
neck,  and  unable  to  utter  the  forewell  so  faintly  spoken  by 
her  mother,  pressed  her  lips  close  to  his  in  that  kiss  of  love 
which  expresses  both  despair  and  undying  devotion ;  for 
there  were  a  thousand  chances  to  one,  against  the  probabili- 
ty of  meeting  him  again. 

She  knew  his  headlong,  reckless  bravery  in  battle — his 
eagerness  to  seek  danger,  if  that  danger  might  carry  his 
sword  to  the  heart  of  a  foe ;  his  readiness  to  volunteer 
upon  every  perilous  enterprise;  his  contempt  for  heavy 
odds  of  arms  or  numbers.  All  this  was  proved  by  a  score 
of  wounds,  serious  or  slight,  which  he  had  received.  She 
knew  that  bitter  hate  and  cruel  wrongs  urged  him  to  strike 
the  invader,  and  that  this  intense  personal  feeling  was 
equalled  by  as  pm*e  and  proud  a  patriotism  as  ever  burned 
in  a  soldier's  heart. 

Of  those  wrongs  we  may  speak  hereafter,  though  the 
young  oflScer  was  not  one  to  vent  his  feelings  in  words,  and 
seldom  spoke  of  his  individual  wrongs. 

**  Good-by  ! "  he  said — the  plain,  simple  word  of  adieu 
ever  rises  from  the  heart,  instead  of  the  more  stately 
phrase  "  farewell,"  when  loving  ones  are  parting — "  good- 
by,  and  God  bless  you  all !  " 

"  God  guard  you  and  the  holy  cause  of  our  country  ! " 
replied  Mrs.  M'Donald,  while  the  tear-dimmed  eyes  of  Myr- 
tis  spoke  their  blessinor  and  adieu. 


OE,    THE   ASHES   OF   SOtJTHEEN   HOMES.  41 

The  homely  farewell  of  the  old  negress,  as  she  clasped 
her  black  hands  in  earnest  supplication,  scarcely  reached 
his  ear  as  the  lover  moved  away,  but  he  felt  that  he  was 
leaving  tliree  hearts  there  in  fallen  Atlanta  which  would 
bleed  should  he  fill  a  soldier's  grave. 

Returning  to  the  balcony,  followed  by  the  faithful  My- 
ra,  the  now  friendless  mother  and  daughter  gazed  after  the 
disappearing  form  of  the  officer  until  he  was  lost  in  a  cloud 
of  smoke  rolling  through  the  street 

"  There  departs  the  last  true  friend,  whom  I  love  as  if 
my  own  son,"  said  Mrs.  McDonald.  "  A  noble  young  man, 
but  oh,  so  rash,  so  daring  !  " 

"  Wouldn't  be  a  Bartow  if  he  wasn't  jest  what  he  is," 
remarked  old  Myra,  brushing  tears  from  her  eyes.  "  I 
knows  all  de  stock;  knowed  Massa  General  Bartow  mighty 
well.  Massa  Frank  same  stock — mighty  darin',  fierce-like 
in  battle.  But  dars  one  thing  I  didn't  like,  doe  I  orter  not 
to  speak  ob  dat  now." 

"What  is  it,  Myra?"  asked  Mrs.  M'Donald. 

"  Didn't  like  to  see  Massa  Frank  go  out  ob  our  sight  in 
dat  cloud  ob  smoke.  I  'lowed  as  how  ef  he  turned  de 
corner  dar,  and  got  out  ob  sight  naterally  like,  we'd  be 
sure  to  see  him  agin.  Sense  he  dis'peared  in  de  smoke,  I 
think  it  'pears  omniverous  like." 

"  And  why  ominous,  Myra  ?  " 

"  Can't  say  why,  missus,  replied  the  old  negress,  wag- 
ging ber  head  sagely.     "  It  'presses  me  like  on  de  soul." 


42  THE  m'donalds; 

"  Husli,  Myra,  look  there  !  "  whispered  Mrs.  M'Donald, 
pointing  to  her  daughter. 

Myrtis  McDonald,  shocked  by  the  foreboding  of  the 
Degress,  and  much  fatigued  with  the  events  of  the  night, 
was  weeping  bitterly,  and  Myra  at  once  attempted  to  soothe 
her. 

"  Lor'  bless  yon,  honey  !  this  ole  nigger  is  a  fool — al- 
ways was  such  a  fooL  Don't  pine  arter  Massa  Frank. 
Dare's  something  in  his  eye  that  says  he's  gwine  to  live  till 
his  hair  is  white — " 

"  There,  Myra,  that  will  do,"  commanded  Mrs.  McDon- 
ald, as  she  wound  her  arms  around  her  daughter's  neck, 
and  pressing  that  beautiful  head  to  her  bosom.  "  Look 
up,  my  child,  and  trust  in  God,  who  does  all  things  aright. 
Come,  let  us  retire.  This  scene  of  confusion  is  very  pain- 
ful." 

"  Tme,  dear  mother,  and  I  have  no  wish  to  gaze  upon 
poor  Atlanta  in  her  dying  agonies,"  replied  Myrtis,  as  they 
withdrew  from  the  balcony,  leaving  the  crowds  of  fugitives 
still  surging  through  the  streets. 

And  thus  sank  the  Confederate  banner  from  the  long- 
beleaguered  Gate  City — sank  amid  the  roar  of  flames,  the 
fall  of  sulphurous  smoke,  the  cries  of  the  mob.  Its  de- 
fenders, after  strewing  the  soil  of  Georgia  with  the  bones 
of  tens  of  thousands  of  the  conquering  invaders,  from  the 
frontiers  of  Tennessee  to  the  suburbs  of  the  city,  with- 
drew in  the  darkness  of  the  night,  to  battle  elsewhere  with 


OK,   THE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN   HOMES,  43 

that  same  resolute  patriotism,  against  the  same  resohite 
foe. 

Bruised,  shattered,  mangled,  defenceless,  the  unhappy 
city  writhed  through  the  horrors  of  that  eventful  night, 
awaiting  with  the  sickening  palpitation  of  terror  the  mo- 
ment when  the  vultures  of  the  North  should  bury  their 
rending  beaks  in  its  quivering  flesh. 

But  much  of  the  suffering  of  that  unfortunate  city 
must  remain  untold  in  this  story.  Yet  let  it  be  remem- 
bered by  all  posterity  that  the  cannon  of  the  Federals 
hurled  death-dealing  shells  into  a  city  in  which  were  hun- 
dreds of  women  and  children.  Let  humanity  shudder  and 
civilization  blush  as  history  in  recording  the  events  of  the 
siege  of  Atlanta,  culls  from  the  city  sexton's  reports  of 
that  time,  ere  the  siege  had  reached  its  zenith  of  horrors  : 
"  Up  to  date,  thirty  children  killed  by  the  bursting  of  shells 
thrown  into  the  city  by  the  Federals.'^'' 

How  many  women,  how  many  more  children,  how 
many  old  decrepit  men,  how  many  sick  and  wounded, 
were  additional  victims  during  this  bloody  siege  ?  Who 
can  tell  ?  Imagination  recoils  from  depicting  fact  as 
memory  recalls  the  harrowing  scenes  of  that  barbarous 
warfare.  The  mother  nursing  her  babe  at  a  famished 
breast — ^blown  to  atoms .  by  a  Federal  shell ;  the  wife 
bathing  the  fevered  brow  of  a  dying  husband — blown  to 
atoms  by  a  Federal  shell ;  the  tender,  laughing  infant, 
cooing  in  its  cradle — blown  to  atoms  by  a  Federal  shell ; 


44  THE  m'donalds; 

romping  children — ^blown  to  atoms  by  a  Federal  shell ;  the 
aged  time-stricken  grandfather,  with  his  grandchild  upon 
his  knee — blown  to  atoms  by  a  Federal  shell — Federal 
shells  bursting  every^ where,  in  parlors,  in  dining-rooms,  in 
kitchens,  in  churches,  in  hospitals,  in  the  streets. 

By  whose  command  was  this  done  ?  Pass  their  names 
down,  0  Genius  of  History,  until  not  a  ray  of  their  ficti- 
tious glory  shall  remain  to  shed  light  upon  them.  Inscribe 
them  in  the  darkest  niche  of  the  temple  of  Fame,  entwine 
them  with  a  wreath  of  deadly  nightshade  and  hellebore, 
with  flowers  whose  perfume  is  laden  with  the  noisome 
rankness  of  untimely  graves.  Let  them  remain  as  memen- 
toes of  the  Abolition  Crusade,  and  let  them  stand  alone  in 
their  darkness. 


45 


CHAPTER  HI. 

A  NOBLE  HEART  UNDER  A  BLUE  COAT. 

The  Federals  under  General  Slocum  marched  into  the 
fallen  city  upon  the  following  day,  and  the  renegades  who 
remained  to  reveal  their  true  colors,  hastened  to  display 
the  flag  of  the  invader,  while  all  true  Southern  hearts  bled 
over  the  disaster. 

Mr.  Seth  Cashmore  was  immediately  hand-and-glove 
with  the  Federals,  and  rapidly  sold  his  secreted  hoards  of 
tobacco.  He  was  exceedingly  busy,  too,  in  pointing  out 
the  homes  and  families  of  leading  Confederates.  Without 
intending  to  apologize  for  any  of  the  acts  of  oppression, 
and  deeds  of  plunder  committed,  we  must  admit  that  the 
number  of  barbarities,  if  not  the  intensity  of  revenge,  was 
increased  by  the  malice  of  Seth  Cashmore  and  men  like 
him,  who  curried  favor  with  the  invaders  by  denouncing 
prominent  Southern  patriots. 

Mrs.  M'Donald  was  not  at  all  surprised,  though  greatly 
distressed,  by  the  appearance  of  the  heartless  speculator 
during  the  day  following  the  occupation  of  the  city  by  the 
enemy,   when  Mr.   Cashmore    called    to  triumph  in  his 


46  THE  m'donalds; 

position  and  power,  or  to  force  the  helpless  widow  to 
terms. 

Myra  answered  his  loud  and  insolent  summons  at  the 
front  door,  and  bluntly  told  him  that  his  company  was  not 
wanted  in  that  house. 

"  Servant  like  mistress,  eh  ? "  snarled  Cashmore,  pushing 
the  old  negress  aside,  and  striding  into  the  hall.  "  But  it 
makes  no  difference  with  Seth  Cashmore.  I  am  master 
of  this  house.  Where  is  Mrs.  M'Donald  ?  She  had  bet- 
ter see  me.  I  tell  you  that.  By  the  way,  old  woman, 
where's  that  rebel,  Frank  Bartow?  I  heard  that  he  fell 
from  his  horse  the  other  night,  and  was  brought  into  this 
house.'- 

"  Almost  wish  Massa  Frank  was  in  dis  house,"  replied 
Myra,  boldly.  "  He'd  mighty  soon  take  you  down.  Massa 
Frank's  all  right,  and  you'll  have  to  shoot  better  next 
time."     So  saying,  Myra  walked  away. 

"  Ah,  I  see  the  rascal  escaped  after  all,"  thought  Cash- 
more.  "  I  was  sure  I  hit  him  just  under  the  neck.  No 
matter — the  way  is  clear  now.  Perhaps  these  proud  speci- 
mens of  Southern  female  chivalry  will  come  to  terms.  Hey ! " 

He  began  to  fill  the  hall  with  insolent  shouts,  as  be- 
came his  new  chai'acter  as  a  "  stanch  loyalist  released  from 
rebel  rule." 

Mrs.  M'Donald  at  once  descended  from  an  upper  room, 
and  as  she  approached  the  insolent  speculator,  he  began  to 
bow  and  smirk  a  half-mocking  apology. 


47 

"  I  regret  extremely,  madam — but  your  servant  was 
very  insolent,  and  refused  to  inform  you  of  my  friendly 
visit—" 

"  Friendly  visit,  Mr.  Cashmorc  ? "  interrupted  Mrs. 
M'Douald,  in  cold  disdain. 

"  As  the  case  may  be,  madam,"  retorted  he,  keenly 
nettled  by  her  unbending  liauglitiness.  He  had  expected 
to  find  her  in  tears,  subdued  by  the  perils  and  privations 
of  her  position.  It  angered  his  grovelling  nature  to  find 
that  handsome  dark  eye  as  scornful  and  defiant  as  ever ; 
that  stately  form  erect  and  bold ;  the  lips  firm  and  res- 
olute. 

"I  have  come  as  a  fiiend,  and  it  depends  upon  you 
and  your  daughter  whether  I  leave  as  an  enemy,"  said  he, 
swelling  with  a  consciousness  of  his  ability  to  annoy  these 
ladies.  "  To  begin,  many  of  my  friends,  the  Federal  ofla- 
cers,  are  seeking  quarters,  and  I  have  aided  them  some  in 
finding  comfortable  places.  Perhaps  you  have  no  objection 
to  taking  in  a  few  ? " 

"  No  Federal  officer  or  private,  were  he  General  Sher- 
man himself,  shall  ever  be  sheltered  in  my  house  with  my 
consent,"  replied  the  haughty  matron.  "We  are  wholly 
in  their  power,  and  they  can  use  that  power  as  gentlemen 
or  as  savages,  as  it  may  best  please  them ;  but  it  shall  never 
be  said  that  the  widow  of  Hardeman  M'Donald  consented 
to  open  her  doors  to  the  despoilers  of  her  land." 

"Yes,  I  supposed  that  such  were  your  sentiments — 


48  THE  MCDONALDS; 

Southern  women  arc  a  little  stiflf  in  that  matter,"  sneered 
Cashmere. 

"  You  are  now  a  Federal,  I  suppose  ?  "  replied  the  lady, 
with  cutting  contempt. 

"  Always  was,  madam ;  though  it  was  not  good 
policy  to  say  so  until  now,"  remarked  Cashmore  with  a 
grin  of  unblushing  efirontery,  which  would  have  laid  bare 
the' meanness  of  his  soul,  had  Mrs.  M'Donald  not  been  fiilly 
aware  of  that  already. 

"  But  that  only  proves  how  able  I  am  to  befriend  you, 
madam,"  he  resumed,  biting  the  head  of  his  cane,  and  cast- 
ing his  frog-like  eyes  about  in  hope  of  seeing  Miss  Myrtis. 
"  If  I  say  the  word,  no  Federals  will  be  allowed  to  quarter 
here  ;  and  if  I  say  the  word,  you  will  have  riff-raff  *  bum- 
mers '  quartered  here." 

"  You  threaten ;  you  a  man,  come  here  to  threaten  a 
widow !  You  are  a  noble  character  indeed,  and  worthy  of 
the  place  of  your  birth — Massachusetts,  sir.  I  am  proud 
to  know  that  you  were  not  bom  "within  the  limits  of  the 
Confederacy,"  replied  Mrs.  M'Donald  undauntedly.  "  Still, 
I  have  a  little  pardonable  curiosity  to  learn  how  your  in- 
fluence can  shield  me  from  the  barbarity  you  mention." 

"  I  have  only  to  report  you  to  headquarters,  either  as  a 
'  loyal  lady,'  or  a  *  rebel  ^oman.'  The  Federals  know  how 
to  attend  to  both  cases,  madam." 

"  And  to  gain  the  precious  good-will  of  Mr.  Seth  Cash- 
more,  what  is  necessary,  sir  ? " 


OR,    THE   ASHES    OF   SOUTHERN    HOMES.  49 

"  Ah,  I  tliongbt  you  would  understand  all  that.  I  have 
mentioned  both  to  you  and  Miss  Myrtis,  a  little  matter — " 

"  One  moment,  sir,"  interrupted  the  indignant  lady, 
stepping  to  the  hall  door  and  opening  it  wide,  "  as  long  as 
I  am  allowed  to  remain  in  this  house,  I  intend  to  be  its 
mistress.  The  street  is  best  suited  for  you.  Go,  sir,  and 
do  yom'  worst.     Go  ! " 

She  stood  aside  and  pointed  toward  the  open  door. 
He  seemed  both  enraged  and  abashed,  but  walked  out  at 
once.  He  had  heard  that  the  Preston  and  Hampton  blood 
was  of  high  mettle,  and  that  there  had  been  instances 
where  insulted  Southern  ladies  had  avenged  their  insults 
with  a  sudden  stab  or  pistol-shot.  Cowardly  and  treacher- 
ous, he  was  greatly  alarmed,  as  he  passed  near  those  flash- 
ing eyes,  and  that  pale,  resolute  face,  nor  breathed  quite  at 
ease  until  he  stood  upon  the  pavement. 

"  Very  well,"  said  he,  as  he  hurried  away,  pale  and 
trembling  wdth  rage,  "  I  will  be  back  very  soon,  and  with 
the  roughest  set  I  can  pick  up.  I'll  show  you  what  Seth 
Cashmore  can  do." 

Myrtis  M'Donald,  standing  upon  the  balcony  above, 
heard  these  ominous  words,  and  at  once  hastened  to  inform 
her  mother. 

"  I  know  he  is  capable  of  any  and  every  baseness,"  re- 
plied the  matron,  whose  cheek  was  burning  with  indigna- 
tion. "  But  as  I  told  him  to  his  teeth,  let  him  do  his 
worst." 


50  THE   MCDONALDS; 

"  But,  dear  motlier,  lie  may  return,  with  authority  to 
drive  us  into  the  street,"  urged  the  young  lady,  whose  pru- 
dence was  greater  than  that  of  her  mother. 

"  Then  we  will  go  into  the  street — we  will  live  under 
sheds,  and  in  shanties — as  thousands  of  Southern  families 
will  be  forced  to  live,  before  this  war  ends.  Or,  if  God  or- 
dains, we  will  die  in  the  streets  before  we  will  accept 
Seth  Cashmore  as  one  of  our  household." 

"  We  can  claim  protection  from  the  Federal  General — " 

"Myrtis  M'Donald,  from  the  enemies  of  my  country  I 
will  claim  no  protection  !  "  exclaimed  the  proud  lady. 

"  We  will  not  have  the  power  to  do  so,  unless  we  first 
secure  protection  against  the  malice  of  Seth  Cashmore/' 
quietly  replied  her  daughter.     "  He  will  soon  return." 

"  Well,  what  must  we  do  ?  Shall  I,  or  you,  or  both 
of  us  seek  out  the  commanding  officer  and  beg  him  for  a 
guard  ?     Never,  never." 

This  conversation  had  passed  in  the  hall,  and  neither 
lady  noticed  that  there  was  a  listener  at  the  door,  until  old 
Myra,  entering  from  the  rear,  whispered : 

"  Bress  us !  dar's  a  blue  locus  at  de  door ! " 

The  ladies  turned,  and  their  eyes  met  those  of  a  Federal 
officer,  who  stood,  cap  in  hand,  upon  the  threshold.  His 
attitude  and  air  were  those  of  a  well-bred  gentleman  ;  his 
features  frank  and  manly,  and  as  the  ladies  faced  him  he 
bowed  respectfully  and  said : 

"  Pardon  my  ir.trsision,  ladies.     Tlie  door  was  open  and 


OR,    THE    ASHES    OF    SOUTHERN    HOMES.  61 

I  came  in.     May  I  ask  if  this  is  the  bouse  of  Mrs.  Harde- 
man M'Donald?" 

"  It  was  my  house,  sir,"  replied  the  widow,  "  yesterday. 
I  suppose  it  now  belongs  to  you." 

"Tome,  madam!" 

"Why  not,  sir?  All  rebel  property  has  been  con- 
fiscated by  the  abolition  Government,  so  I  suppose  the 
right  of  discovery  makes  it  the  legal  possession  of  the  first 
abolitionist  who  finds  it." 

"  Ah,  but  I  am  not  an  abolitionist,"  replied  the  ofl^icer, 
in  a  laughing  tone. 

"  Yet  you  wear  the  uniform  of  one." 

"  Pardon  me  for  saying  that  I  do  not,  madam.  I  wear 
the  uniform  of  the  United  States.  I  am  a  Unionist,  but 
not  an  abolitionist." 

"  There  is  no  diflference  in  the  meaning  of  the  words, 
in  my  mmd,  sir,"  replied  the  widow,  yet  less  haughtily 
than  before,  for  the  handsome  face  and  gentlemanly  tone 
of  the  unwelcome  intruder  impressed  her  favorably. 

"  My  dear  madam,"  said  the  officer,  "  we  will  not  waste 
time  in  discussing  incendiary  subjects.  Several  months 
ago  it  was  my  fortune  to  capture  a  gallant  young  Con^ 
federate  captain  in  Tennessee.  His  name,  he  said,  was 
Charles  Pinckney  M'Donald." 

"  My  son !  It  was  my  poor  boy,  who  is  dead  ! "  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  M'Donald  in  a  sad  tone,  while  she  regarded 
the  speaker  anxiously. 


52  THE  m'donalds 


*'  Yes,  madam,  he  is  dead.  He  was  badly,  mortally 
wounded  when  he  fell  into  our  hands,"  continued  the  offi- 
cer. "  I  had  the  honor  of  attending  to  his  wants  durinor 
the  few  days  preceding  his  death,  and  at  his  dictation 
wrote  a  letter  to  his  mother  and  sister — " 

"  You  are  the  Captain  Irving,  of  New  York,  of  whom 
he  speaks  so  earnestly  in  that  letter — Captain  William  Dix 
Irving  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  M'Donald. 

"  I  am,  madam  ;  now  Major  Imng,  attached  to  the 
staff  of  General  Slocum." 

"  Then,  sir,  permit  his  mother  and  sister  to  thank 
you  fervently  for  the  generous  kindness  you  extended  to 
poor  Charlie,"  cried  the  widow,  offering  her  hand  to  the 
officer. 

"And  may  Heaven  guard  you  from  the  sad  fate  which 
befell  my  dear  brother!"  exclaimed  Myrtis,  also  giving 
her  hand,  while  her  beautiful  and  eloquent  eyes  filled 
with  tears. 

"  Ladies,"  said  Major  Irving,  as  he  pressed  the  fair 
hands,  and  gazed  with  much  emotion  from  one  to  the 
other,  "  I  did  no  more  than  any  Christian  soldier  and 
gentleman  should  ever  do  to  a  helpless  and  wounded  foe." 

"  Ah,  but  such  instances  of  noble  generosity  are  rare, 
Major  Irving,"  said  Mrs.  M'Donald.  "  You  were  as  kind 
to  him  as  a  brother;  you  sent  to  us  his  sword,  his  purse, 
and  his  watch — " 

"  Perhaps  such  deeds  are  not  so  rare  as  you  imagine, 


53 


my  dear  madam,"  interrapted  the  Federal  warmly.  "  I 
know  there  are  many  vile  and  barbarous  characters,  beastly 
natures,  in  our  armies — the  naturally  evil  nature  of  man  is 
fearfully  increased  in  wickedness  by  the  license  of  war — 
yet,  I  know  that  the  Federal  army  contains  as  kind,  as 
noble,  as  chivalric  natures,  as  generous  hearts  as  any  in 
the  world.  I  know,  too,  that  the  Confederate  army  has 
many  right  noble  natures,  but  are  there  not  some  as  dark 
as  any  your  people  abhor  in  ours  ?  But  we  will  not  argue 
upon  that  now.  Man  has  been  compared  to  an  inferior  god, 
and  Holy  Writ  says  that  he  is  but  little  lower  than  the 
angels ;  yet  my  experience  in  this  unhappy  war  has  con- 
vinced me  how  readily  man  can  become  a  beast,  a  savage, 
ruthless  beast.  I  did  not  draw  my  sword  to  cut  my 
Southern  brother's  throat  because  we  differed  in  politics, 
nor  to  deprive  him  of  any  right  bequeathed  to  him  by  the 
Constitution.  I  drew  my  sword  to  preserve  the  Union, 
which,  from  my  childhood,  I  have  been  taught  to  revere 
and  love  as  the  palladium  of  American  greatness  and 
liberty.  Evil-minded  men  have  goaded  the  North  and 
South  into  civil  war,  and  the  sword  alone  must  now 
decide." 

"  The  sword !  But  your  generals  wage  more  war  with 
the  torch  than  with  the  sword,"  said  Miss  M'Donald.  ''  I 
have  no  doubt,  Major  Irving,  that  were  all  your  officers 
like  my  wounded  and  dying  brother's  friend,  the  war  would 
soon  be  ended  by  mutual  concessions,  founded  upon  high 


5i 


patriotic  piiiiciples;  but  your  soldiers,  and  your  radical 
Congress  war  against  us,  as  if  we  were  heathen,  worthy 
only  of  extermination." 

The  young  officer  listened  with  great  respect  and  deep 
admiration  to  tjie  beautiful  speaker,  and,  if  he  had  any  de- 
sire to  continue  the  argument,  he  restrained  it  through  a 
generous  wish  not  to  contradict  so  lovely  a  sufferer  by  the 
war.  He  had  a  fair  and  gentle  sister  yonder  in  New  York, 
and  he  acted  toward  all  Southern  ladies  as  he  wished  his 
gray-coated  enemies  to  act  toward  her,  should  the  fate  of 
war  ever  behold  the  great  metropolis  of  the  Hudson  pa- 
trolled by  Confederate  troops. 

"  Miss  M'Donald,"  said  he,  earnestly,  while  his  bright, 
blue  eyes  proved  his  truth,  "  believe  me  when  I  say  that 
the  great  Northern  heart  is  sick  of  the  horrors  in  which 
the  war  has  involved  the  non-combatants  of  the  unfortunate 
South.  I  know  that  we  have  a  class  of  fanatics  among  us 
who  entertain  toward  the  South  an  animosity  befitting  only 
devils,  and,  unhappily  for  both  North  and  South,  that  class 
is  in  power,  and  so  long  as  it  holds  the  power,  oppression 
and  outrage  will  rule  in  the  field  and  in  the  cabinet.  Let 
us  hope  for  better  days,  when,  with  the  Union  restored,  as 
our  Revolutionary  fathers  made  it  and  left  it,  both  North 
and  South  will  unite  to  east  out  the  great  foe  of  American 
peace  and  prosperity — radicalism !  " 

"  The  North  can  never  free  herself  from  the  grasp  of 
the  ruthless  party  to  whose  embrace  she  has  submitted  in 


65 


her  desire  to  vanquish  the  South.  But  let  us  say  no  more 
of  that,"  remarked  Mrs.  M'Donald.  "  You  were  the  friend 
of  my  wounded  and  dying  son,  and  in  that  name,  not  as  a 
Federal  officer,  we  welcome  you  to  our  poor  home  while 
yet  it  is  ours." 

"  And  yours,  madam,  I  hope  it  will  ever  be,  if  you  de- 
sire it,'-  replied  the  Federal.  "But  I  must  convey  to  you 
the  last  words  spoken  to  me  by  your  dying  son,  in  fact,  the 
last  he  ever  spoke,  for  the  poor  fellow  died  in  my  arms.  It 
was  just  as  the  sun  was  rising  that  he  spoke,  after  a  silence 
of  more  than  an  hour.  He  had  expressed  a  wish  to  behold 
the  glorious  sun  rise  once  more,  and  as  it  appeared  above 
the  horizon,  its  first  rays  streaming  in  through  the  door  of 
my  tent,  he  pressed  my  hand,  and  I  raised  him  to  a  half- 
sitting  posture,  with  his  head  upon  my  shoulder,  his  face 
to  the  sun." 

"  God  reward  you,  sir,  for  your  kindness ! "  sobbed  the 
mother,  as  her  mind  depicted  the  mournful  scene,  and  as 
the  pale  and  dying  face  of  her  beloved  son  rose  before  her. 

"  Dear  Charhe  !  poor  brother  !  "  whispered  Myrtis,  as 
she  buried  her  face  in  her  mother's  bosom. 

The  young  officer,  his  own  generous  eyes  paying  trib- 
ute to  his  sympathy  for  the  weeping  mother  and  sister,  con- 
tinued in  a  deep  and  tremulous  tone : 

"  I  had  learned  to  love  Charles  M'Donald,  and  I  felt  as 
I  felt  when  my  ovm  brother  died  in  my  arms  before  Rich- 
mond.     Your  son  gazed  upon  the  rising  sun  long  and 


56  THE  m'donalds  ; 

steadily,  and  then,  with  his  eves  still  fixed  upon  it,  he  said : 
'  Irving,  I  have  seen  the  rising  sun  once  more,  and  it  car- 
ries my  heart  back  to  the  home  of  my  father,  where  I  used 
to  see  it  rising  over  the  hills  of  Cherokee.  God  bless  the 
sun,  and  all  it  shines  upon  !  Now  let  me  ask  one  last  fa- 
vor, my  kind  friend.  Should  the  fate  of  war  ever  enable 
you  to  befriend  my  mother  and  sister,  be  as  kind  to  them 
as  you  have  been  to  me,  and  God  will  bless  you.  Mother, 
sister,  brother,  friends,  and  land  I  love,  farewell ;  may  God 
receive  my  spirit ! '  He  never  spoke  again,  but  closed  his 
eyes,  sighed  heavily,  and  as  I  gazed  upon  his  pale,  rigid  fea- 
tures, I  saw  that  he  was  dead.  We  gave  him  an  honored 
soldier's  burial,  and  raised  a  pile  of  stones  to  mark  the  spot 
where  he  sleeps,  near  the  banks  of  the  Cumberland.  And 
now,  my  dear  friends,  if  I  may  claim  the  honor  to  call  you 
so,  if  there  is  any  thing  in  the  power  of  WiUiam  Irvmg 
you  desire,  you  have  but  to  name  it." 

The  emotion  of  grief,  deeply  excited  in  the  hearts  of 
the  mother  and  sister  by  the  simple  narrative  of  the  Fede- 
ral officer,  prevented  them  from  replying.  They  were 
thinking  of  that  beloved  and  dead  one,  wounded  unto  lin- 
gering death,  and  dying  far  from  the  gentle  hands  and 
idolizing  eyes  at  home  ;  dying  yonder  in  Tennessee,  in  the 
camps  of  his  enemies,  with  the  light  of  the  rising  sun  glis- 
tening in  his  glazing  eyes. 

Ah !  he  was  happier  far  in  dying  in  the  arms  of  a 
generous  and  noble-hearted  foe,  than  thousands  upon  thou- 


\ 


OR, 


57 


sands  of  great-hearted  sons  of  the  South  who  breathed  their 
last  in  the  Federal  prisons  of  Ehnira,  or  Fort  Delaware,  or 
Camp  Chase,  or  any  other  rival  of  Harper-defamed  and 
Leshe-slandered  Andersonville ! 

Happier,  perhaps,  than  that  giant  mind  and  royal  heart, 
which,  as  we  write,  beats  and  bruises  high  aspirations  and 
noble  thoughts  against  the  prison  bars  of  that  political  dun- 
geon at  Fortress  Monroe.  God  grant  him  a  speedy  deliver- 
ance! 

"  Major  Irving,"  said  Mrs.  M'Donald,  drying  her  tears, 
"  I  have  shed  so  many  tears  since  this  dreadful  war  began, 
that  I  wonder  my  eyes  have  not  dissolved  in  woe.  My 
poor  boy  was  very  dear  to  me.  I  have  but  one  son  left  to 
my  widowed  old  age,  and  he  rides  with  danger-loving  and 
fierce-fighting  Wade  Hampton,  my  kinsman.  I  did  not 
think  that  my  tongue  could  ever  speak  kindly  again  to  one 
wearing  the  uniform  of  the  men  who  have  slain  my  hus- 
band, and  five  of  my  sons,  and  who  may  yet  hurl  to  a 
bloody  and  untimely  grave,  ray  last  boy ;  but  from  the 
bottom  of  my  heart  I  am  grateful  to  you,  and  invite  you  to 
make  use  of  our  home,  so  long  as  it  is  spared  to  us." 

"  Madam,  I  ask  no  reward,  and  claim  no  hospitality 
from  you  because  I  did  a  soldier^s,  and  I  trust,  a  Christian 
gentleman's  duty  to  your  son — " 

"  But,  Major  Irving,"  interrupted  Myitis, "  your  presence 
as  a  guest  in  our  house,  will  be  a  protection." 

"But  wc  do  not  claim    it   in   that   light,"  said  Mrs. 


58  THE   MCDONALDS  ; 

M'Donald,  quickly.  "  As  the  friend  of  my  son,  Major  Imng 
is  no  longer  to  be  considered  in  any  other  light  than  as  an 
honored  guest." 

"  Nevertheless,"  thought  the  less  haughty  Myrtis,  "  his 
presence  will  be  a  protection,"  and  her  beautiful  eyes  said 
as  much,  to  the  quietly  observant  major. 
'-  "I  accept  the  generous  offer,  ladies,"  he  said,  after  a 
moment's  thought ;  "  and  though  Mrs.  McDonald  refuses 
to  consider  me  except  as  a  guest,  I  join  with  her  in  hoping 
that  nothing  may  arise  to  deny  me  the  right  to  be  consid- 
ered as  a  sincere  friend." 

"With  that  wish  I  heartily  concur,"  replied  Mrs. 
M'Donald.  "  We  do  not  know  how  long  we  may  remain 
in  Atlanta ;  aU  is  undecided  with  us.  But  so  long  as  this 
house  is  ours,  let  it  be  yours.  Major  Irving." 

"Thank  you,  madam.  I  will  return  within  an  hour, 
after  performing  a  few  duties  belonging  to  my  position." 

With  these  words,  the  young  officer  bowed  and  with- 
drew, leaving  Mrs.  M'Donald  with  a  far  more  favorable 
opinion  of  him  than  she  had  ever  believed  that  the  widow 
of  Hardeman  M'Donald  could,  under  any  circumstance, 
entertain  toward  a  wearer  of  the  Federal  uniform. 

"  He  has  a  noble  heart,"  she  said.  *'  It  is  a  pity  that 
he  wears  that  uniform." 

"  I  do  not  think  the  color  or  cut  of  the  uniform  has 
much  to  do  with  the  heart.  A  gentleman  is  a  gentleman 
whether  he  wears  the  blue  or  gray,"  replied  Myrtis. 


OE,   THE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHEKN   HOMES.  59 

Mrs.  M'Donald  fixed  her  dark  eyes  rather  sternly  upon 
her  daughter's  face,  and  said  quite  curtly  : 

"  Wait ;  you  have  not  seen  all  of  General  Sherman's 
army,  yet. 


60  THE  MCDONALDS; 


CHAPTER  IV. 


A      TITLED      "BUMMER. 


Meantime,  Mr.  Setli  Cashmore,  livid  with  rage — ^that 
devouring,  flaming  rage,  which  seethes  in  the  soul  of  a 
coward  just  recovering  from  terror — ^pursued  his  way  tow- 
ard the  centre  of  the  city,  muttering  a  thousand  maledic- 
tions upon  the  pride  and  "  pluck  "  of  the  M'Donalds,  and 
casting  his  protuberant  eyes  here  and  there,  in  search  of 
some  means  to  appease  his  hungry  malice. 

He  met  several  bands  of  Federals  strolling  about,  but 
soon  fixed  his  attention  upon  a  party  of  four,  whose  uni- 
form showed  that  they  were  officers,  and  whose  loud  talk 
and  boisterous  behavior  proved  that  they  had  been 
assuaging  their  thirst  with  any  thing  but  water. 

"  Good !  "  muttered  the  renegade  speculator,  as  his 
glance  fell  upon  the  loudest  talker  of  the  four.  "  That  is 
Tom  Flaskill,  who  used  to  keep  a  cheap  rum-shop  in  Cam- 
bridge Street  in  Boston.  So  he's  got  to  be  a  Federal  cap- 
tain. Wonder  how  he  got  his  commission  ?  But  he's  the 
man  I  want.     I'll  see  if  he  knows  me." 


OR,    THE   ASHES    OF    SOUTHERN    HOMES.  61 

With  this  determination  the  speculator  accosted  the 
party  with  a  bow,  and  the  words — 

"  'Day,  gents.  Looking  for  good  quarters  ?  Your  ser- 
vant, gentlemen,  and  loyal  to  the  core." 

"  You  are  ?  And  who  are  you  ?  "  demanded  the  leader 
of  the  party,  with  an  oath  of  the  most  profane  style,  at  the 
same  time  fixing  his  eyes  upon  the  grinning  face  of  the 
speculator. 

This  quondam  acquaintance  and  boon  companion  of 
Seth  Cashmore,  now  sportmg  the  uniform  of  a  Federal 
captain,  was  a  short,  stout,  red-faced,  pock-marked  fellow, 
with  a  pair  of  steel-gray  eyes,  over  which  drooped  flabby 
and  wrinkled  lids,  streaked  with  pufiy  veins,  the  same  kind 
of  veins  variegating  his  thick,  broad  nose  and  swollen 
cheeks.  A  heavy  red  mustache,  scraggy  whiskers,  and 
freckles  innumerable,  were  the  dubious  ornaments  of  a 
face,  every  feature  of  which  declared  its  owner  to  be  a 
bully  and  a  ruffian. 

"  My  card,  sir,"  replied  Seth,  as  his  gi-eat,  baggy  fin- 
gers dived  into  his  vest  pocket,  and  produced  a  business 
card,  upon  which  was  written : 

"Atlanta,  Ga.,  Sept.  2c?,  1864. 
"  This  certifies  that  Mr.  Seth  Cashmore  is  a  loyal  citizen 
of  the  United  States,  and  a  wai-m  friend  to  the  Union  cause. 


"  Guess  you  know  the  signature  attached,  gentlemen," 
continued  Seth,  in  a  tone  of  ironical  humility. 


62 

"  Seth  Caslimore?  Why  I  used  to  know  you,"  cried 
the  leader.  "  You  used  to  keep  a  second-hand  clothing 
store  on  Milk  Street,  down  to  Boston." 

"  Yes,  I  knew  Tom  Flaskill  well  in  them  times.  Glad 
to  see  you  are  a  captain,  fighting  the  rebs.  But  what  are 
you  beating  around  after?  quarters  ?" 

"  Yes.  We  are  out  on  a  seek,  d'ye  see,  and  want  to 
get  the  best  before  some  of  the  Moguls,  the  generals  and 
colonels,  spot  'em  all,"  replied  Captain  FlaskilL 

"  Then  I  can  show  you  as  nice  a  house  as  is  in  town, 
and  the  best  of  it  is,  the  old  woman  is  a  red-hot  secesh 
from  the  crown  of  her  head  to  the  sole  of  her  foot — so  is 
her  daughter — and  swears  tbrough  thick  and  thin  that 
she'd  sooner  poison  General  Sherman  himself  than  offer 
him  shelter  under  lier  roof." 

"  I  like  to  get  my  hand  on  them  sort,"  growled  Flas- 
Mll,  rolling  his  cruel  eyes  around  him.  "  AATiich  way 
does  she  hang  out  ? " 

"  Follow  me,  gentlemen,  and  I  will  soon  lead  you  to 
the  place,"  said  the  delighted  speculator,  as  he  paced  off 
briskly,  followed  by  the  party.  "  I've  been  living  several 
years  in  Atlanta,  gentlemen,  always  a  true  friend  to  the 
noble  Union — I'd  die  for  my  principles  any  day.  But  I 
never  let  the  rebs  suspect  my  true  sentiments,  you  may  be 
very  sure.  I  had  a  narrow  escape  once,  though.  The  time 
when  our  boys  ran  off  with  the  engine  on  the  State  road. 
I  gave  our  boys  all  the  dots,  and  when  they  were  caught 


OK,   THE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN   HOMES.  63 

and  brouglit  back,  I  felt  inuch  afraid  lest  I  might  be  found 
out." 

*'  Tlie  rebs  hung  our  boys,  didn't  they  ? " 

"  Yes,  and  I  called  it  murder  then,  and  I  call  it  murder 
now,  gentlemen,"  cried  Seth,  smiting  his  bear-like  paws  to- 
gether in  an  ecstasy  of  patriotism. 

"  How  was  it  the  rebs  didn't  get  you  into  their  army  ? " 
asked  Flaskill.  ''  AVhat  with  Jeff.  Davis  at  Richmond, 
and  old  Joe  Brown  in  Georgia,  I  wonder  they  didn't  make 
an  involuntary  grayback  of  you." 

"  I  dodged  'em  in  every  way  imaginable,"  replied  Seth 
Cashmore,  halting  to  produce  a  large  pocket-book,  and 
grinning  hideously  as  he  displayed  his  papers.  "  Here's 
my  certificate  to  prove  that  I  am  fifty-nine  j^ars  old. 
Here's  one  to  show  that  I  have  the  asthma ;  this  one  for 
the  dropsy ;  this,  that  I  cannot  distinguish  colors ;  this, 
that  I  am  as  blind  as  a  bat  in  gas-light ;  this,  that  I  am 
ruptured ;  this,  that  I  have  fits  ;  this,  that  I  have  a  disease 
of  the  spine ;  this,  that  I  am  a  '  Dunkard,'  and  have  paid 
five  hundred  dollars  for  being  a '  Dunkard ' — in  fact,  I  have 
certificates  to  prove  that  I  slept  in  a  hospital,  and  caught 
all  the  diseases  of  every  ward." 

*'  Ho !  you  are  a  shy  bird,  Cashmore,"  said  Flaskill, 
laughing,  as  the  speculator  grinned  over  his  medical  and 
exempting  certificates. 

"Of  course  I  am,"  roared  Seth,  producing  another 
batch   of   documents.      "Here's  evidence  that  I  am  an 


64 


agent  of  the  Nitre  Bureau ;  here's  my  contract  to  supply 
charcoal ;  here's  another,  which  exempts  me  as  tax  asses- 
sor ;  here's  one  that  lets  me  oft'  as  a  mail  contractor  ;  here's 
another  that  exempts  me  as  a  railroad  agent ;  and  here," 
cried  the  jubilant  speculator,  with  a  loud  roar  of  trium- 
phant fraud,  "  is  my  exemption  as  a  preacher !  " 

"  A  preacher  ?     Can  you  preach  ? " 

"  My  dear  friend,"  replied  the  speculator,  smacking  his 
thick  lips,  as  if  knavery  tasted  sweet  to  him,  "  I  can  do 
any  thing  to  keep  out  of  the  war,  and  I  feel  pride  in  saying 
that  I  think  I  have  done  all  that  one  man  could  do,  con- 
scientiously, to  keep  from  shooting  at  the  noble  defenders 
of  the  glorious  flag  of  the  Union." 

"  I  think  you  have,  Cashmore,  and  no  doubt  you  arc 
now  ready  to  carry  a  musket  against  the  rebels  ? "  said 
Flaskill. 

"  If  I  am,  may  I  be  shot !  "  exclaimed  Seth,  very  truth- 
fully. "  My  genius  does  not  lie  in  that  Une.  But  here  we 
are,  before  the  house  I  mentioned." 

"  Wait,"  said  Flaskill.  "  I  see  that  very  nice  young 
man,  Major  Irving,  ahead.  There,  he  is  out  of  sight  now. 
He's  one  of  your  cambric-handkerchief  fellows,  that  thinks 
a  reb's  got  rights.     This  is  the  house,  is  it  ? " 

"  This  is  the  place,"  repHed  Seth,  waving  his  hand  toward 
the  open  door.  "  Large  and  airy  rooms — one  or  two  quite 
well  famished,  considering  the  times,  though  the  owner — 
you  see  her  standing  in  the  door,  gentlemen — has  nearly 


65 


stripped  lier  liouse  of  furniture  to  aid  tlie  rebel  cause. 
StiU,  if  the  house  pleases  you,  I  can  point  out  several  rebel 
families  which  have  some  decent  furniture  left,  and  I  guess 
you  can  help  yourselves  to  what  suits  you." 

"  I  think  we  can,"  replied  Flaskill,  with  a  brutal  laugh, 
which  attracted  the  attention  of  Mrs.  M'Donald,  who  saw 
the  party  for  the  first  time  as  he  laughed. 

"  Heaven  aid  me  now ! "  thought  the  widow,  as  she 
scanned  the  coarse  and  scowling  faces  looking  across  the 
street.  "  They  are  coming  here,  and  Seth  Cashmore  with 
them.     Well,  I  may  as  well  meet  them  now  as  hereafter." 

It  was  a  sad  sight  to  see  that  delicately  reared  Southern 
matron  nerve  herself  to  meet  those  brutal  and  triumphant 
foes  of  her  beloved,  prostrate  land.  The  excitement  of  the 
hour  had  painted  a  bright-red  spot  upon  each  pale  cheek  of 
her  still  handsome  face,  and  though  her  slender  and  feeble 
frame  trembled  from  overtaxed  nervousness,  her  dark,  clear 
eyes  flashed  heroic  defiance  upon  the  shoulder-strapped 
"  bummers  "  as  they  swaggered  across  the  street,  and  noisily 
ascended  the  steps  leading  to  the  vestibule  of  her  house. 

They  were  ignorant  of  the  respect  due  to  woman's 
garb ;  or,  if  they  were  not  ignorant,  they  had  no  shame, 
and  red-faced  Flaskill  spoke  out  in  a  rude,  overbearing 
tone: 

"  "We  want  this  house,  old  woman.  We  are  four  Fed- 
eral oflScers,  and  want  quarters  here." 

At  this  moment.  Myitis  M'Donald  hastened  from  her 


66  THE   MCDONALDS; 

room,  and  placed  herself  by  the  side  of  the  widow,  with  an 
air  of  dignity  and  coui'age  equal  to  tlie  heroism  of  her  high- 
spirited  mother. 

"  You  claim  to  be  gentlemen,  I  presume  ? "  said  Mrs. 
M'Donald,  but  not  moving  from  her  door. 

"We  are  Federal  officers,"  replied  Captain  Flaskill, 
with  a  fierce  oath,  and  looking  very  savage. 

"  Your  uniform  tells  me  that,"  calmly  remarked  Mrs. 
M'Donald.  "  B.  F.  Butler  is  also  a  Federal  officer,  and  of 
far  higher  rank  than  you  ;  yet  I  should  be  sorry  if  you  ad- 
mit him  to  be  a  specimen  of  a  Federal  gentleman.  You 
desire  quarters  in  my  house.  I  suppose  you  have  orders 
to  that  eflfect  from  your  commanding  officer  ?  If  not,  I 
must  decline  the  honor  of  your  company." 

"  Just  so,"  growled  Flaskill,  as  he  deliberately  stretched 
out  his  gi-eat  haiiy  hands;  no  doubt  intending  to  thrust 
the  ladies  aside. 

To  avoid  this  insulting  advance  they  were  forced  to  fall 
back  from  the  door,  and  Flaskill  swaggered  in  with  a  coarse 
laugh,  followed  by  his  comrades,  Seth  Cashmore  bravely 
bringing  up  the  rear,  and  quite  eager  to  make  himself  of 
importance  to  his  Federal  friends. 

"The  parlor  is  on  the  right,  gentlemen,"  said  Seth, 
staring  atrociously  at  Myrtis,  a  vulgar,  exultant  stare. 

''  There  ain't  much  left  in  this  parlor,"  remarked  the 
valiant  Flaskill,  as  he  rolled  his  eyes  about  the  apartment. 
"  Hardly  pay  a  fellow  for  the  carting  off." 


OK.   THE    ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN   HOMES.  G7 

Now  -vve  must  say  tliat  Tom  Flaskill  is  an  excellent  type 
of  a  numerous  class  of  titled  "  bummers,"  who  afterward 
sullied  tlie  glory  of  Sherman's  celebrated  march  ;  in  fact, 
sullied  it  from  the  very  day  the  Federal  army  entered  North- 
ern Georgia.  We  do  not  hold  him  and  his  fellows  up  as 
types  of  Federal  officers  in  general ;  for,  we  feel  a  thrill  of 
pride  in  the  American  name,  in  knowing  that  there  were 
thousands  of  noble  hearts  beating  beneath  the  Federal  uni- 
fonn ;  kind  and  generous  souls,  of  a  high  sense  of  honor 
and  chivalry,  warring  against  the  South  because  they  firm- 
ly believed  the  Union  cause  just  and  true.  But  we  present 
Tom  Flaskill  as  a  genuine  specimen  of  those  "jail-birds," 
holding  Federal  commissions,  and  using  them  to  plunder, 
to  bui*n,  to  destroy  private  property,  and  to  insult,  to 
harry,  to  outrage  helpless  old  men,  feeble  and  unprotected 
women,  and  innocent  children. 

Captain  Tom  Flaskill  was  an  expert  judge  of  what  was 
worth  "  carting  ofi* "  from  Southern  homes.  It  is  not 
probable  that  he  had  ever  entered  a  respectable  parlor,  in 
all  his  Hfe,  until,  as  a  plundering  Federal  captain,  he  blun- 
dered into  a  commission  and  used  his  place  and  power  to 
plunder  "  rebel  property." 

But  he  had  a  very  extensive  experience  of  what  might 
be  found  in  Southern  parlors,  bed-rooms,  closets,  and 
kitchens,  for  he  had  shipped  on  his  own  account,  and  upon 
shares  with  officers  of  higher  grade  and  like  character, 
several  car-loads  of  "rebel"  pianos,  sofas,  divans,  otto- 


68 


mans,  tites-a-tetes^  tables,  carpets,  curtains,  pictures,  mantel 
ornaments,  etc.,  etc., — shipped  them  North,  where  they 
may  be  found,  indignantly  says  the  Rev.  Henry  Ward 
Beecher,  to  this  day. 

He  was  also  an  excellent  judge  of  ladies'  wearing  ap- 
parel, and  knick-knacks,  trinkets,  et  cetera,  in  general ;  for 
he  had  shipped  North  scores  of  trunks  crammed  with  his 
tasteful  selections  from  the  plundered  wardrobes  of  "  rebel 
women  " — not  omitting  babies'  rattles,  provided  the  rattles 
had  a  touch  of  gold  on  them. 

Therefore  Captain  Flaskill  felt  indignant  as  he  scorn- 
fully scanned  the  impoverished  parlor  of  the  M'Donalds, 
and  had  the  right  of  an  accomplished  brigand,  an  A.  M.  of 
the  College  of  "  Bummers,"  to  growl : 

"  There  ain't  much  here  worth  the  carting  ofif." 

"  Not  much  now,  that's  a  shameful  fact,"  said  Mr.  Seth 
Cashmore,  virtuously  indignant  that  his  esteemed  friend 
Flaskill  was  thus  deprived  of  his  stealing  privileges.  "  But 
this  room  used  to  be  a  grand  flare-out.  Rich  Brussels  car- 
pets—" 

"  Where's  them  carpets  now  ? "  demanded  Flaskill. 

"  Made  up  into  blankets  and  comforters  for  the  rebels, 
Tom.     Splendid  marbled-topped  side  and  centre  tables — " 

"  Where's  them  tables  now  ? " 

"  Melted  into  Confederate  money,  sold  to  aid  the  rebel 
currency,  Tom.     Superb  rosewood  piano—" 

"  What's  become  of  that  ? " 


OE,    THE   ASHES    OF   SOUTHERN    HOMES.  69 

"  Sold  to  buy  corn  and  salt  for  rebel  soldiers'  families, 
Tom.  Costly  curtains — well,  it  all  went.  I  needn't  waste 
time  telling  it.  All  went  to  help  the  rebels.  You  see 
what  is  left  in  this  room ;  a  chair  or  two,  that  picture — " 

"  Hello !  what  made  that  smashing  hole  just  over  the 
picture  ?  and,  come  to  look  around,  the  walls  is  badly  cut 
up,"  said  Flaskill. 

"  One  of  the  Federal  shells  burst  in  this  room,"  replied 
Seth,  rubbing  his  whiskers.  "  That  picture  is  a  portrait  of 
the  late  Colonel  Hardeman  M'Donald,  killed  at  the  first 
Manassas.  There  used  to  be  a  great  many  very  fine  paint- 
ings in  here,  and  in  the  hall,  but  they  were  sold  to  help  to 
raise  a  fnnd  to  build  a  rebel  gunboat." 

"  Old  reb,"  said  Flaskill,  addressing  the  portrait,"  you 
might  just  as  well  cave." 

He  advanced  to  the  picture  and  grimaced  mockingly  at 
the  noble  face.  Had  the  fiery -spirited  original,  and  not  the 
lifeless  portrait,  been  before  him,  he  would  have  played 
hound  and  not  hyena. 

He  grasped  the  frame,  and,  wrenching  it  from  its 
brackets,  would  have  tossed  it  through  the  open  v/indow 
into  the  street,  had  not  Miss  M'Donald  placed  her  fair 
hand  upon  his  ruflSan  arm  and  said : 

"  I  pray  you  give  that  portrait  to  me,  sir." 

"  And  what  do  you  want  with  it?  Why  didn't  you 
sell  it  when  you  sold  the  others,  you  rebel ! "  demanded 
Flaskill,  with  an  oath  we  omit,  and  we  also  omit  the  ob- 


70 


scene  epithet  which  followed  the  word  "rebel,"  though 
millious  in  the  South  can  tnily  testify  that  the  insulting 
epithet  was  lavishly  used  by  the  Federals  in  their  march  to 
the  sea,  when  they  addressed  Southern  ladies. 

"  It  is  the  portrait  of  my  father,"  replied  Myrtis,  her 
cheek  flushing  indignantly. 

"  It  is  the  portrait  of  my  dead  husband,  sir,"  remarked 
Mrs.  M'Donald,  with  a  calm  dignity  which  should  have 
abashed  even  B.  F.  Butler,  who,  in  his  late  speech,  glories 
in  having  forced  "  Southern  ladies  in  silks  and  satins  to 
ktieel  to  him  for  favors ! " 

"  It  is  de  picture  of  my  dead  massa !  "  exclaimed  old 
Myra,  who  had  now  joined  the  party. 

"  Good !  I  see  that  it  is  worth  something  to  you,"  said 
Flaskill,  with  a  wicked  leer  at  the  three  women.  "  Hey, 
boys !  here's  a  chance  to  drive  a  trade.  I  expect  those  reb- 
els (we  omit  the  epithet)  have  hid  away  a  trinket  or  two, 
a,  watch  or  some  rings.  Say,  old  lady,  what  will  you  give 
for  the  picture  of  your  husband  ?  And  you,  my  dainty, 
for  the  picture  of  your  father  ?  And  you,  you  ball  of 
blacking,  for  the  picture  of  the  old  rebel  rascal  you  still 
call  your  master?  Going,  going,  going  to  the  highest 
bidder.  Gold,  silver,  greenbacks  or  trinkets  taken  at  cur- 
rent rates !     Make  your  bids,  ladies,  white  and  black ! " 

"  What  a  humorous  fellow  he  is  1 "  said  Seth,  gloating 
maliciously  over  the  humiliation  of  the  unfortunate  M'Don- 
alds.     "  He'd  make  a  superb  auctioneer." 


71 


"  Let  liim  do  as  lie  pleases  with  it,"  remarked  Mrs. 
M'DoiialJ,  liaiig-litily,  as  she  turned  away  in  disgust.  "  It 
^vould  grieve  the  noble  spirit  of  Hardeman  M'Donald  to 
know  that  his  widow  and  his  daughter  stooped  to  ask  even 
life  at  the  hands  of  a  ruffian  so  base." 

"  Mother,  mother,"  whispered  the  more  prudent  daugh- 
ter, "  do  not  irritate  the  ferocious  beast,  he  may  strike  us. 
I  am  sure  he  looks  vile  enough." 

But  the  valiant  Flaskill  seemed  to  be  in  a  jocular  mood, 
or,  perhaps  he  had  heard  so  many  indignant  feminine 
speeches  as  he  insulted  and  plundered,  that  he  had  come 
to  regard  them  as  seasoning  to  his  taste. 

"There's  game!  That's  plucky!  The  old  hen  will 
crow  soon,"  said  he,  mockingly.  "  Come,  I  put  the  pic- 
ture cheap.  Three  kisses  from  the  young  rebel  maid  ran- 
soms old  rebel  head." 

"  Three  all  'round,"  chorused  his  noble  comrades,  ap- 
provingly. 

"  With  an  extra  one  for  me,"  snarled  Mr.  Seth  Cash- 
more,  in  a  paroxysm  of  delight.  "  Ah  !  I  told  you,  ladies, 
you  ought  to  make  a  friend  of  me." 

"  My  daughter,"  said  Mrs.  M'Donald,  "  let  us  retire. 
These  are  so  far  from  being  entitled  to  the  name  of  gentle- 
men, that  it  is  a  disgrace  to  humanity  to  call  them  men." 

"  Away  it  goes,  then  ! "  shouted  Flaskill,  as  he  tossed 
the  picture  into  the  street. 

Though  greatly  shocked  by  the  violence  of  these  men. 


72 

the  ladies  hastened  into  the  street  to  rescue  the  hallowed 
memento  of  their  beloved  dead,  while  old  Myra  loudly 
and  stingingly  berated  the  perpetrator  •of  the  cowardly 
deed. 

But  her  indignant  speech  was  suddenly  cut  short  as 
Flaskill  struck  her  in  the  mouth  with  the  butt  of  his  pis- 
tol, hurling  her  to  the  floor.  What  if  she  was  a  wo- 
man ?  "  He  never  allowed  rebels,  black  or  white,  to  give 
him  impudence  ! " 

Had  old  M}Ta  been  the  fairest,  most  stately  dame  in 
all  Dixie,  the  nrffian  would  have  struck  her  down  all  the 
same.  He,  and  fellows  like  him,  commissioned  assassins, 
licensed  thieves,  with  the  scent  of  prisons  and  jails  and 
dance-cellars  reeking  about  them,  never  regarded  age,  sex, 
or  color  as  they  swept  through  the  helpless  South. 

Does  the  reader  suppose  that  the  scene  just  nan-ated  is 
a  fictitious  one  ?  If  so,  fact  is  mistaken  for  fiction.  It 
is  but  one  of  the  many  scenes  of  atrocious  tyranny,  out- 
rageous barbarity  which  daily  occurred  in  Georgia  and 
South  Carolina,  when  the  Federal  army  followed  the  policy 
commanded  by  the  radical  party  of  the  North.  The  scene 
we  have  attempted  to  portray  is  a  tame  affair,  in  compari- 
son with  what  really  transpired  after  Sherman's  evacuation 
of  the  fallen  city. 

"  I  think  this  place  will  suit  us,  eh,  boys  ? "  said  Flas- 
kill.    "  Cashmore  has  promised  to  point  out  furniture." 

"Of  course   I   will,  gentlemen,"  said   the   speculator, 


OR,   THE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN    HOMES.  73 


"  but  you  may  find  something  worth  your  attention  in  the 
bed-room  of  these  rebels." 

"  That's  a  fact ;  let's  have  the  whole  house." 

"  Massa  cap'n,"  said  old  Myra,  rising  from  the  floor, 
and  wiping  the  blood  from  her  lips  upon  her  apron,  "  if 
you  take  de  wbole  house,  whar  de  ladies  gwine  for  stay  ? " 

•'  The  ladies  ?  They  may  leave — though  that  young 
one  is  a  beauty,  too,"  replied  Flaskill.    "  I'll  think  of  that." 

"  Captain  Flaskill,"  said  a  voice.     The  ruffian  turned 
round,  and  beheld  Major  Irving. 
4 


74  THE  m'donalds; 


CHAPTER  V. 


INSULTING    THE    FLAG. 


The  young  major's  face  was  blazing  with  indignation, 
and  his  blue  eyes  sparkled  as  he  spoke  those  two  words, 
"  Captain  FlaskiU." 

"Well,  Major  Irving?"  replied  Flaskill,  facing  him 
boldly. 

"  I  understand  from  these  ladies  that  they  have  been 
insulted  by  you,  and  that  you  are  about  to  drive  them  into 
the  street.  That  such  is  the  fact  I  have  no  doubt,  for  I 
have  overheard  some  of  your  language.  Now,  sir,  under- 
stand this :  this  family  is  under  my  protection  ! " 

"  Under  your  protection !  that's  rich,"  said  Flaskill. 
"  But  go  on,  I  consider  myself  as  good  as  any  New  York 
popinjay  that  ever  walked." 

"  They  are  under  my  protection,  sir,  and  I  shall  see 
that  they  are  protected.  You  need  not  scowl  at  me,  sir, 
nor  any  of  your  friends,"  continued  the  major,  undisturbed 
by  the  black  looks  of  the  shoulder-strapped  "  bummei-s." 
"  I  hold  an  order  from  General  Slocum  assigning  the  house 
of  Mrs.  Hardeman  M'Donald  to  my  care ! " 


OE,   THE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHEEN   HOMES.  75 

"Let  me  see  the  order,"  gru%  demanded  Captain 
Flaskill. 

The  major  gave  him  a  paper,  and  the  captain  read  it 
with  a  lowering  eye.     He  returned  the  order,  saying: 

"  You  are  ahead  of  me  again,  William  Irving,  as  you 
were  in  Marietta ;  but  mark  me,  I'll  be  even  with  you  yet. 
You're  a  copperhead  conservative,  and  that's  more  than 
half  a  rebel.  Come,  boys.  Miss  Nancy  with  the  white 
kids  is  ahead  of  Tom  Flaskill  again.  Let's  find  another 
spot,  this  place's  been  well  picked  already.  Come,  Cash- 
more,  you  can  pilot  us !  " 

"Cashmore?  Is  your  name  Cashrabrc?"  asked  Major 
Irving,  advancing  toward  the  speculator. 

"At  your  service,  major.  Infinitely  and  entirely  at 
your  service,  I  assure  you,  and  at  that  of  all  Federal  gentle- 
men, everywhere,"  rattled  Mr.  Cashmore. 

"  I  only  wished  to  know  you.  I  have  heard  of  you," 
replied  the  major.  "  Captain  Charles  McDonald,  who  died 
in  Tennessee,  knew  you  well.  I  wish  to  inform  you  that 
it  is  with  gTeat  pleasure  I  decline  the  services  you  offer, 
and  also  that  if  you  attempt  again  to  annoy  this  family  or 
any  other  unprotected  family,  I  will  break  every  bone  in 
your  body." 

With  these  words,  the  major  extended  his  nervous 
fingers  with  amazmg  celerity,  and  grasped  the  large  hooked 
nose  of  the  astonished  speculator  in  a  gripe  of  steel.  Hold- 
ing him  thus  he  led  him  into  the  hah,  through  the  hall  to 


76  THE  MCDONALDS  ; 

the  front  door,  released  the  nose  and  bestowed  a  hearty 
kick  which  enabled  Mr.  Seth  Cashmere  to  take  a  prodigious 
leap  into  the  street,  where  he  arrived  upon  all  fours. 

"  Pardon  me,  ladies,"  said  the  major,  turning  and  bow- 
ing to  the  M'Donalds,  "the  fellow  is  scarcely  worthy  of  a 
gentleman's  boot,  but  he  is  so  very  mean." 

Mrs.  M'Donald  smiled,  while  her  daughter  was  forced 
to  laugh  aloud  at  the  ridiculous  plight  of  the  speculator, 
who  scrambled  to  his  feet  and  hurried  after  Captain 
Flaskill  and  his  comrades. 

"  I'll  be  revenged  upon  that  fellow,  if  he  is  a  Federal 
major,"  said  Seth  in  his  teeth,  while  he  rubbed  his  back. 
/'  The  M'Donalds  are  very  lucky  in  finding  a  protector." 

Very  fortunate,  indeed,  Mr.  Cashmore ;  but  alas !  how 
many  in  that  unhappy  and  conquered  city  failed  to  find  a 
Major  Irving  whose  generous  arm  could  and  would  shield 
their  helplessness  from  lawless  rascals  like  Seth  Cashmore, 
who  eagerly  seized  the  time  to  gratify  private  malice 
which  had  rankled  in  venomous  hearts  for  years  ;  or  from 
the  military  brutality  of  wretches  like  Tom  Flaskill,  who 
followed  and  accompanied  the  mighty  hosts  of  Sherman 
merely  to  plunder  and  to  outrage ! 

Under  the  malevolent  guidance  of  Seth  Cashmore  other 
"  rebel  homes  "  were  visited  and  outraged  by  Flaskill  and 
fellows  like  him ;  but,  for  the  time,  the  M'Donalds  were 
safe  from  the  attacks  of  the  speculator,  who,  finding  his 
aims  thwarted,  turned  his  attention  to  fleecing  his  Federal 


77 


friends  with  as  little  compunction  as  he  had  fleeced  the 
"  rebels." 

The  quiet  but  keen  investigations  of  Major  Irving  soon 
discovered  the  bitterness  of  that  poverty  in  which  the 
M'Donalds  had  been  steeped  to  the  lips,  and  his  private 
purse  soon  restored  plenty,  not  only  to  that  household,  but 
to  many  others  in  the  starving  city.  He  was  too  thoroughly 
a  gentleman  to  obtrude  his  charity  upon  any;  particularly 
was  he  guarded  in  administering  to  the  wants  of  the 
McDonalds.  He  could  appreciate  the  feelings  of  the 
haughty  yet  greatly  humbled  matron  as  she  beheld  in  her 
house  the  uniform  of  her  country's  triumphant  foes,  and 
was  rarely  visible  to  either  mother  or  daughter,  though 
the  beauty  of  the  latter  had  greatly  impressed  his  heart 
and  mind. 

When  not  engaged  in  his  oflBcial  duties  he  occupied 
much  of  his  time  in  searching  for  misery  and  alleviating  its 
pangs. 

He  had  a  wide  field  for  charity  in  war-smitten  Atlanta ; 
and,  though  he  possessed  a  heavy  purse,  it  would  soon 
have  been  exhausted,  had  he  not  found  similar  spirits  to 
his  own  among  his  brother  ofiicers.  As  heavily  as  the  heel 
of  Federal  war  has  crushed  the  Southern  heart,  it  would  be 
unworthy  of  its  world-renowned  reputation  for  chivalric 
and  knightly  traits,  did  it  not  fairly  admit  that  amid  the 
armies  which  swept  over  the  fields  of  Dixie,  like  hurri- 
canes of  devastation,  tliere  were  many  generous  and  hon- 


78 


orablc  men ;  men  whom  no  party  hate  or  sectional  malice 
could  make  forgetful  of  the  laws  of  honor,  of  humanity,  of 
Christianity,  of  gentle  breeding. 

History  will  declare  that  under  the  barbarous  policy 
ordered  by  the  radical  leaders  at  Washington,  preached 
from  the  sacred  desk  by  fanatical  Bible-twisters,  the  Federal 
armies  in  paying  strict  obedience  must  have  retrograded 
into  the  warfare  of  ruthless  savages.  "  K,"  said  the  merci- 
less abolition  leaders,  as  they  urged  on  the  war,  "  the  South 
cannot  be  subdued  without  extermination — and  we  be- 
lieve it  cannot — then  exterminate  her  people  ! "  The 
atrocious  fact  is  on  record  in  the  archives  of  the  American 
nation,  and  defies  denial.  But  while  posterity  stands  ap- 
palled before  this  evidence  of  party  madness,  let  it  rejoice 
that  characters  like  Major  Irving  w^ere  not  few  nor  far  be- 
tween. 

There  was  barbarity  enough,  outrage,  atrocity,  inhu- 
manity, savagery  enough  to  sully  the  fair  fame  of  the  Amer. 
ican  name  ;  but  civilization,  chivalrj',  and  Christianity  shed 
their  fair  lights  upon  the  night  of  horrors.  Those  leaders, 
civil  and  military,  who  played  the  parts  of  devils  are  al- 
ready experiencing  the  condemnation  of  the  world ;  and,  let 
us  hope,  that  the  time  is  not  far  distant,  when  those  brazen- 
browed  glorifiers  in  their  own  infamous  deeds,  who  still 
trumpet  forth  their  shame  as  a  thing  of  which  to  be  proud, 
will  hasten  to  hide  their  crushed  heads  in  the  sands  of 
oblivion. 


OK,   THE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN   HOMES.  79 

The  mortification  of  the  proud-spirited  Southern  ma- 
tron was  concealed  beneath  a  dignified  calmness  in  per- 
fect consonance  with  her  lofty  nature.  She  had  great  and 
bitter  cause  to  hate  the  Federal  name  and  flag,  for  men 
warring  under  the  name  of  the  Union,  had  bereft  her  of 
her  husband,  five  of  her  sons,  and  all  of  her  once  opulent 
estate.  She  firmly  believed  the  cause  of  the  South  most 
just;  the  course  of  the  Washington  Government  most 
tyrannical. 

Grateful,  indeed,  she  was  to  Major  Irving  for  his  kind- 
ness, and  for  his  sake  she  strove  to  look  upon  his  uniform 
with  some  sentiment  less  harsh  than  detestation.  She  had 
once  revered  the  "  gorgeous  flag  of  the  Republic,"  but  that 
feeling  had  passed  away  forever.  She  could  not  gaze  upon 
it  without  remembering  the  graves  of  her  husband  and 
children,  but  she  kept  her  sentiments  locked  within  her 
own  bosom. 

The  beautiful  Myrtis  shared  all  the  feelings  of  her  moth- 
er, but  calm  and  prudent,  she,  too,  held  her  own  counsel. 

But  the  feelings  of  both  mother  and  daughter  were  to 
be  rudely  outraged  during  the  few  days  they  were  permit- 
ted to  remain  in  Atlanta,  under  Federal  rule. 

One  day,  the  third  or  fourth  after  the  discomfiture  of 
Seth  Cashmore,  Mrs.  M'Donald  received  an  urgent  note  from 
a  lady  friend  asking  her  immediate  presence,  as  the  mother 
of  that  Mend  was  at  the  point  of  death. 

As  much  as  Mrs.  M'Donald  disliked  to  appear  in  the 


80 

streets,  she  could  not  refuse  to  comply  with  this  request ; 
and  as  Miss  M'Donald  was  also  greatly  attached  to  the  dy- 
ing lady,  she  of  course  accompanied  her  mother. 

But  the  ever-vigilact  eye  of  Mr.  Seth  Cashmore  did  not 
fail  to  recognize  the  forms,  though  he  could  not  see  the 
deeply- veiled  faces  of  the  M'Donalds.  Malice,  like  love, 
is  ever  on  the  alert,  and  its  instincts  are  almost  unerring. 

Though  at  a  great  distance,  when  he  discerned  two 
female  forms  in  that  deep  mourning  so  common,  alas! 
North  and  South,  since  1861,  Seth  Cashmore  instantly  con- 
ceived the  belief  that  the  objects  of  his  mahce  were  upon  the 
street,  and  prompted  into  immediate  activity  by  that  belief, 
he  made  a  rapid  circuit  of  several  squares,  and  was  thus 
enabled  to  meet  them. 

They  saw  him,  and  recognized  him,  though  neither 
spoke  of  the  fact  until  be  had  reached  a  considerable  dis- 
tance from  them. 

"  I  did  hope  that  we  could  pass  through  the  streets 
without  seeing  that  wretch,"  observed  Mrs.  M'Donald. 
"  Now,  it  is  a  shame,  after  all  the  care  we  took  to  walk  in 
deserted  streets,  that  the  very  fellow  whom  we  desii-ed  to 
avoid,  should  meet  us,  face  to  face." 

"  Hardly  face  to  face,  mother,"  replied  Myrtis,  "  for  we 
are  so  deeply  veiled  that  he  could  not  have  recognized  us." 

"  My  dear  child,  remember  that  the  war  has  left  us  but 
the  dresses  we  now  wear,  and  surely  they  must  have  be- 
come familiar  to  Seth  Cashmore." 


OR,   THE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHEEN   HOMES.  81 

"  That  is  true,  mother.  But  what  can  he  do  to  annoy 
us  ?  We  are  not  committing  an  act  of  treason,  I  hope,  in 
merely  appearing  in  the  street  ? " 

"  Heaven  knows  what  act  our  enemies  may  construe  to 
be  treason,"  replied  the  widow.  "  I  am  sure  we  have  no 
*  rebel  ribbons '  or  *  rebel  ornaments '  upon  our  persons.  I 
have  heard  that  a  little  baby  was  arrested  for  wearing  red 
and  white  stockings.     Poor  little  baby  rebel ! " 

Conversing  thus,  the  ladies  pursued  their  walk  and  soon 
reached  the  humble  roof  which  sheltered  their  dying  friend, 
Mrs.  M'Donald  remarking  with  a  sigh,  as  they  paused  be- 
fore the  door — 

"  My  spirits  feel  greatly  depressed,  and  I  attribute  it  to 
having  met  Seth  Cashmore — I  feel  that  he  is  plotting  mis- 
chief of  some  kind." 

Mr.  Seth  Cashmore  had  been  plotting  mischief.  He 
was  an  expert  at  plotting  mischief,  and  he  soon  hit  upon  a 
plan  by  which  he  hoped  to  annoy,  if  not  injure,  the  McDon- 
alds. He  had  seen  their  acknowledged  protector.  Major 
Irving,  lide  out  that  morning  with  several  other  officers,  and 
felt  quite  confident  that  he  had  a  fair  field  for  his  opera- 
tions. 

He  hurried  to  find  his  fiiend  Tom  Flaskill,  and  having 
found  that  noble  warrior  about  two-thirds  drunk,  and  there- 
fore in  fine  trim  for  any  rascality,  he  at  once  laid  his  valor- 
ous plans  before  him. 

"  It  shall  be  done ! "  replied  the  noble  son  of  Mars, 
4* 


82  THE  m'donalds; 

buctling  on  Lis  sword,  and  examining  his  pistols  as  if  about 
to  attack  lions  and  not  unprotected  ladies.  "  Tbey  arc 
proud  upstarts,  pets  of  Miss  Major  Nancy,  and  I  rejoice  in 
the  opportnnity." 

He  then  collected  several  of  his  favorite  companions, 
heroes  of  the  bottle  and  bar-room  stamp,  and  having  pro- 
cured two  large  Federal  flags,  and  two  stout  cords,  set  forth 
upon  his  gallant  expedition,  piloted  by  the  worthy  Seth 
Cashmore. 

Upon  reaching  the  vicinity  of  the  house  of  the  dying 
lady,  the  doughty  captain  stretched  a  cord  across  the  pave- 
ment, some  ten  or  fifteen  feet  from  the  ground,  and  upon 
that  he  hung  one  of  his  "  star-spangled  banners."  Then 
proceeding  beyond  the  house,  he  rigged  up  his  other  flag. 

"  Now  then,"  said  Captain  FlaskiU,  *'  I  think  they  are  in 
a  trap.  They  must  either  pass  under  and  touch  the  *  stars 
and_stripes,'  or  put  for  the  middle  of  the  street,  which  will 
be  an  '  insult  to  the  flag,'  and  we  are  ordered  to  aiTest  any 
one  that  treats  the  *  sacred  gridiron '  with  the  least  dis- 
respect." 

"  If  I  know  any  thing  of  the  character  of  the  old  lady," 
chuckled  Scth,  as  he  rubbed  his  hands,  "  she'd  drink  poi- 
son before  she'll  pass  under  the  Federal  flag.  I've  heard 
her  say  so  twenty  times — and  the  young  one  too. 

"  Just  so,"  replied  FlasMU,  "  and  now  we'd  better  retire 
out  of  sight.  For  if  they  suspect  the  trick,  they  may  make 
a  virtue  of  a  necessity." 


83 


They  then  withdrew  to  the  corner  of  the  next  street, 
and  waited  patiently  for  the  appearance  of  the  ladies. 

The  M'Donalds,  busy  in  administering  to  the  wants  of 
the  dying  woman  within  the  house,  knew  nothing  of  the 
hanging  of  the  flags,  nor  was  the  fact  observed  by  any  of 
the  afflicted  household,  for  the  attention  of  all  was  fully  oc- 
cupied within. 

A  fair  and  lovely  spirit  was  rapidly  passing  away ;  not 
prostrated  by  the  assaults  of  disease,  but  stricken  down  a 
few  weeks  ago  by  a  Federal  shell,  as  she  stood  by  the  bed- 
side of  her  wounded  husband. 

Yes,  on  the  20th  of  August,  1864,  while  Mrs.  Ray  was 
bathing  the  burning  brow  of  her  husband,  one  of  tbe  mili- 
tia of  Georgia,  wounded  in  the  trenches  before  Atlanta,  a 
shell  flew  screeching  from  the  mouth  of  a  Federal  cannon, 
and  hurling  like  a  death-demon  into  the  city,  exploded  in 
the  sick-room,  fearfully  mangling  the  tender  form  of  this 
excellent  woman.  The  same  explosion  killed  the  wounded 
husband. 

Scenes  of  horror,  of  woe,  of  misery  indescribable  were 
common  at  that  time  in  the  unhappy  city.  We  present  it 
but  as  a  single  specimen  of  tbe  warfare  beneath  which  At- 
lanta at  length  fell,  crushed,  bleeding,  mutilated. 

We  will  not  linger  at  this  death-bed  of  a  gentle,  deli- 
cate lady.  She  died,  one  of  the  many  unoffending  vic- 
tims of  that  dreadfnl  civil  war,  precipitated  upon  a  peace- 
ful and  most  prosperous  nation  by  political  fanaticism. 


84  THE  MCDONALDS; 

The  M'Donalds  performed  the  few  Mnd  oflBces  that 
lay  in  their  power,  and  with  hearts  saddened  by  the  scene, 
left  the  house  to  return  to  their  home. 

They  had  reached  the  pavement,  had  turned  to  the 
right,  had  taken  a  few  steps  homeward,  when  both  paused 
abruptly.  There  before  them,  hanging  so  low  that  to  pass 
under  it  they  must  stoop,  drooped  the  flag  of  the  invaders 
of  the  South. 

Mrs.  M'Donald  gazed  upon  the  banner  for  a  moment  in 
silence,  and  then  remarked — 

"I  have  said  that  I  will  never  pass  under  the  flag  of  my 
enemies  if  I  can  avoid  it.    Come,  we  will  go  the  other  way." 

They  turned,  and  an  exclamation  of  surprise  rose  to 
their  lips  as  they  saw  the  second  flag,  flaunting  as  if  in 
mockery  of  their  dilemma. 

"  I  told  you  Seth  Cash  more  was  plotting  mischief  or 
insult,"  said  Mrs.  M'Donald,  ''  but  his  cowardly  trick  shall 
not  force  me  to  stoop  to  pass  under  that  flag." 

"  Mother,"  remarked  Myrtis,  detaining  the  widow  as 
she  was  about  to  walk  into  the  street,  "  I  have  heard  that 
the  Federals  bitterly  resent  any  supposed  slight  to  their 
flag.     They  may  arrest  us  if  we  pass  around." 

"Let  them  arrest,  then,"  replied  the  widow.  "Such 
petty  tyranny  is  in  perfect  accordance  with  their  diminu- 
tive souJs,"  and  with  these  words  she  walked  into  the  street 
and  passed  around  the  nearer  flag.  Her  daughter,  of  course, 
accompanied  her.  ^  ^ 


OK,    THE    ASHES    OF   SOUTHERN    HOMES.  85 

"  There,  they  have  run  their  heads  into  the  noose,"  said 
Flaskill  to  his  comrades,  who  had  held  keen  watch.  "  Some 
of  you  can  go  and  take  down  the  flags,  while  I  proceed  to 
arrest  these  rebels.     Come,  Cashmore." 

"  Excuse  me,  Tom,  I'd  rather  not  appear  in  the  affair," 
protested  the  wary  speculator,  who  had  a  vivid  and  salutary 
remembrance  of  tbe  threat  of  Major  Irving.  "  I  will  sec 
you  again,  and  hear  all  about  it." 

He  did  not  remain  to  argue  the  matter,  but  hurried 
away,  while  the  valorous  Flaskill  hastened  after  the  ladies, 
followed  by  several  of  his  soldiers. 

The  M'Donalds  were  soon  overtaken,  and  coarsely  or- 
dered to  halt  by  Captain  Flaskill. 

They  at  once  halted,  and  awaited  his  pleasure.  Both 
instantly  recognized  that  brutal  face,  and  those  cruel  eyes 
glaring  malignantly  beneath  their  flabby,  red-veined  lids. 

"  Why  did  you  rebel  women  not  pass  under  our 
flag,  just  now?"  demanded  Flaskill,  while  his  soldiers 
gathered  around  the  shrinking  ladies  with  fixed  bayonets. 

"  Were  those  flags  not  hung  there  to  compel  us  to  pass 
under  them,  sir?"  asked  Mrs.  M'Donald,  calmly. 

"  That  does  not  answer  my  question,  you  rebel,"  said 
valiant  Flaskill,  fiercely,  as  he  twirled  his  red  and  bristling 
mustache.  "  You  left  the  pavement,  walked  into  the 
street,  and  passed  around  the  American  flag ;  thus  publicly 
declaring  your  contempt  for  the  flag  of  the  Union.  Do 
you  deny  it  ? " 


86 


"  I  do  not  deny  it,"  promptly  replied  Mrs.  M'Donald. 

"  Then  I  arrest  both  of  you  for  treason,"  cried  FlasldlL 
"  March  the  rebel  wenches  to  the  guard-house.  Fall  in ! 
Forward ! " 

Then  was  seen  a  spectacle  by  no  means  uncommon 
during  the  war,  and  afterward  seen  in  other  Southern 
cities ;  the  spectacle  of  delicate  Southern  ladies  marched 
through  the  most  public  streets,  guarded  by  stalwart,  beard- 
ed men  in  blue,  whose  fierce  looks  and  glistening  bayonets 
betokened  to  all  beholders  the  importance  of  their  petticoat- 
ed  prisoners,  and  the  terrible  danger  to  the  Federal  arms, 
should  those  dreadful  "  rebel  women  "  get  loose ! 

The  McDonalds  at  first  almost  sank  with  shame,  but  a 
few  moments  sufficed  to  restore  to  them  their  family  and 
national  courage. 

"  It  is  no  shame  that  we,  though  women,  should  be  in- 
sulted for  our  country's  sake,"  remarked  the  haughty  widow, 
as  her  dark  eyes  flashed  defiance,  and  as  she  boldly  threw 
aside  her  veil.  "  My  husband  and  children  have  died  for 
the  Southern  Confederacy,  and  if  my  death  is  demanded  I 
am  ready." 

The  maiden  modesty  of  the  lovely  girl  at  her  side,  less 
experienced  in  the  rude  ways  of  the  world,  shrank  how- 
ever from  the  bold  and  leeiing  eyes  of  her  captors,  and  she 
clutched  her  veil  beneath  her  chin  with  trembling  hands, 
as  if  fearful  that  rude  and  shameless  FlasMll  would  pluck  it 
fi'om  her  blushins:  face. 


OR,   THE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN   HOMES.  87 

"Conduct  me  to  your  provost-marshal  at  once,"  de- 
manded Mrs.  M'Donald. 

*'  I'll  slap  you  into  the  guard-house  first,  and  then  make 
ray  report,"  replied  Flaskill,  who  took  huge  delight  in 
humiliating  "  rebel  wenches." 

He  kept  his  word.  These  ladies  were  marched  to  the 
guard-house,  and  locked  up  in  company  with  drunken  sol- 
diers, thieving  vagabonds,  negro  rufiiaus,  and  the  like. 

It  was  nearly  night,  when  even  the  heroic  fortitude  of 
the  courageous  though  feeble  widow,  was  nearly  exhausted 
before  Major  Irving  entered  the  dirty  room  in  which  the 
M'Donalds  were  confined. 

His  face  was  grave  and  pale,  and  there  was  a  fresh  scar 
upon  his  cheek,  as  from  a  recent  encounter. 

"  Come  with  me,  ladies,"  said  he,  ofiering  an  arm  to 
each,  and  conducting  them  to  a  carriage  in  the  street.  "  I 
am  deeply  mortified  that  my  absence  gave  an  opportunity 
for  the  perpetration  of  this  outrage.  At  least,  neither 
Captain  Flaskill  nor  Seth  Cashmore  will  annoy  you  for 
some  time  to  come." 

He  then  explained  that  information  of  the  aftair  had 
been  reported  to  him  by  old  Myra,  upon  his  return  from  a 
reconnoissance,  and  that  he  had  immediately  procured  an 
order  for  their  release,  and,  having  met  Flaskill  and  Cash- 
more  on  his  way  to  the  guard-house,  had  pummelled  the 
captain  and  cowhided  the  speculator. 


88  THE  m'donalds  ; 


CHAPTER  YL 

ATLANTA     DEPOPULATED. 

A  FEW  days  after  the  events  narrated  in  the  preceding 
chapter  appeared  the  celebrated  order  of  General  Sherman, 
which  commanded  the  depopulation  of  the  conquered 
city. 

We  will  not  pause  here  to  discuss  this  remarkable  or- 
der, by  which  thousands  of  the  women  and  children  of  a 
vanquished  town  were  deprived  of  their  homes,  and  turned 
shelterless,  penniless,  but,  thank  Heaven,  not  friendless, 
upon  the  precarious  livelihood  to  be  gained  or  begged  in 
an  impoverished  country.  We  will  only  say  that  the  en- 
forcement of  the  order  caused  incalculable  misery,  inclu- 
ding sickness,  diseases  of  all  kinds,  bitter  poverty,  starva- 
tion, death. 

The  unfortunate  refugees  of  the  hapless  city  were  scat- 
tered over  all  the  State  ;  families  were  broken  up,  never  to 
be  reunited ;  property  was  lost,  or  ruined,  beyond  all  re- 
demption; decrepit  old  men,  sick  women,  and  hungry 
children,  driven  from  their  shell-shattered  Atlanta  homes, 


OB,   THE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN   HOMES.  89 


straggled  over  all  Georgia,  living  from  hand  to  moutli,  or 
dying  by  the  wayside,  glad  to  shelter  their  heads  and  tot- 
tering frames  in  sheds,  shanties,  mere  kennels,  old  stables, 
dismantled  cars,  shattered  wagons,  ruined  and  long-deserted 
negro  cabins,  crumbling  old  stores — nay,  even  in  empty 
hogsheads,  in  and  under  any  thing  which  afforded  the 
slightest  shelter. 

Gaunt  starvation,  livid-lipped,  haggard-eyed  disease  fol- 
lowed these  miserable  refugees ;  and  had  not  the  generous 
charity  of  the  poverty-smitten  South  hastened  to  aid  and 
shelter  them,  probably  not  one  in  ten  would  have  lived 
until  1865. 

But  Macon,  Augusta,  Columbus,  Savannah,  and  other 
Southern  cities,  and  the  towns,  villages,  and  hamlets  of  the 
noble  Empire  State,  never  forgetful  of  the  pure  instincts 
of  Christianity,  gathered  them  up  as  far  as  they  were  able, 
though  there  were  many  proud-hearted  unfortunates  who 
suffered  and  concealed  the  pangs  forced  upon  them  by  the 
order  which  depopulated  Atlanta. 

The  M'Donalds  were  forced  to  seek  some  other  home, 
and  they  departed  from  the  last  home  of  their  ancestors, 
unable  to  take  with  them  the  few  comforts  and  little  furni- 
ture they  had  barely  held  together  until  that  sad  hour. 

With  a  tenacious  fidelity  old  Myra  clung  to  the  waning 
fortunes  of  her  unhappy  mistress.  Bleak,  black,  and  bit- 
ter had  those  fortunes  been;  but  the  future  loomed  up 
darkly,  still  more  bleak  and  black,  and   bitter,  yet  this 


90  THE   MCDONALDS  ; 

aged  Degress,  type  of  many  of  her  race,  refused  to  be  sep- 
arated from  the  fate  of  that  family  in  which  she  had  lived 
and  served  since  her  birth. 

The  kindness  of  the  Federal  major  was  still  bright  and 
conspicuous,  nor  was  this  nobleness  of  character  caused  by 
his  love  for  Myrtis  M'Douald.  Prior  to  the  war  he  had 
wooed  and  won  the  heart  of  a  fair-haired  Northern  lady  ; 
and  though  he  could  not  but  admire  the  loveliness  of  the 
dark-eyed,  graceful  Georgian  girl,  his  soul  remained  true  to 
his  Northern  love.  His  kindness  sprang  from  his  own 
chivah'ic  nature,  and  he  was  as  noble  in  his  conduct  tow- 
ard the  ruder  classes  of  his  helpless  foes  as  he  had  been 
toward  the  refined  and  once-opulent  M'Donalds. 

All  the  more  honor  to  him  for  this,  for  the  license  of 
the  times  was  simply  fearful,  and  the  examples  as  well  as 
the  precepts  of  the  leaders  of  the  radical  party  commanded 
their  soldiers  to  oppress  and  destroy. 

He  had  become  gi'eatly  interested  in  the  fortunes  of 
the  mother  and  daughter,  and  on  one  occasion  advised 
them  to  seek  refuge  in  New  York,  beneath  his  mother's 
roof,  and  assured  them  of  a  warm  welcome. 

"  My  mother  and  sister,"  said  he,  "  already  know  you, 
for  I  have  written  much  concerning  you.  Reside  with  them 
until  the  return  of  peace  will  enable  you  to  Hve  in  peace 
again  in  Georgia.     I  am  in  profound  earnest,  ladies." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  you  are.  Major  Irving,"  replied  Mrs. 
M'Donald,  deeply  affected  by  this  unexpected  generosity 


OK,    THE    ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN    HOMES.  91 

from  one  wearing  Federal  uniform,  "  and  we  are  inexpressi- 
bly grateful  to  you  for  your  princely  kindness.  With  waiTQ 
and  ever-mindful  gratitude  to  you,  we  must  decline  to  ac- 
cept your  offer.  Our  fortune  must  attend  that  of  our  be- 
loved South ;  with  her  we  are  willing  to  suffer ,  with  her 
we  live  or  die,  as  the  All-wise  God  ordains." 

Major  Irving  was  fully  capable  of  appreciating  this  pure 
and  lofty  patriotism,  and  he  bowed  his  admiration,  while 
he  expressed  his  regret  that  the  war  had  shattered  that 
deep  love  which  both  North  and  South  had  once  been 
emulous  in  displaying  for  the  great  American  Union. 

"  It  is  no  longer  a  Union,"  repHed  Mrs.  M'Donald,  "  it 
is  a  despotism,"  and  with  these  words  the  conversation 
ended. 

The  services  of  the  major  procured  the  M'Donalds 
means  of  transportation  to  the  Confederate  lines,  and,  with 
sincere  regret  upon  both  sides,  they  parted. 

"  Did  I  not  devotedly  love  Frank  Bartow,  I  should  be 
tempted  to  love  Major  Irving,"  thought  Myrtis  M'Donald, 
as  she  gazed  after  the  tall  and  graceful  officer  as  he  disap- 
peared amid  a  crowd  of  blue  uniforms. 

The  widow  had  her  thoughts,  also,  and  a  tear  trembled 
in  her  eye  as  she  saw  her  Federal  protector  no  more  ;  but 
she  said  nothing,  and  other  and  more  imperative  thoughts 
came  into  her  mind  at  the  moment,  chief  and  most  impor- 
tant of  which  framed  themsevesthus  :  "  Great  God  !  where 
shall  we  go  ?  " 


92  "     THE  m'donalds  ; 

Gazing  sadly  around  upon  her  fellow-unfortunates,  her 
eye  seemed  to  read  in  the  woe  depicted  upon  every  pale 
and  anxious  face,  those  same  terribly  significant  words : 
"  Great  God !  where  shall  we  go  ?  " 

"  God  will  provide.  He  always  has,"  mused  the  pious 
and  confiding  lady.  "  Thus  far,  through  sorrow,  want,  and 
woe.  His  hand  has  sustained  me.  The  will  of  God  be 
done." 

Myrtis  M'Donald  was  still  more  self-reliant.  Unlike 
her  feeble  mother,  she  was  in  robust  health,  and  health 
always  gives  courage.  The  war  had  taught  her  fair  fingers 
to  toil,  and  no  sentiment  of  false  pride  existed  within  her 
well-balanced  mind  to  restrain  her  hands  from  "earning 
her  bread  in  the  sweat  of  her  face." 

Let  us  here  pause  to  pay  a  passing  tribute  of  profound 
admiration  to  this  noble  trait  in  the  character  of  the  women 
of  the  South.  Although  the  calamities  of  war,  relentless 
devastation,  ruthless  spoliation,  and  the  unsparing  torch 
hurled  thousands  from  comparative  ease  into  the  jaws  of 
poverty,  stnick  down  hundreds  from  affluence  to  sudden 
pauperism,  but  few  failed  to  struggle  successfully,  hand  to 
hand,  with  grim  want ;  and,  though  toiling  far  more  labo- 
riously than  they  had  ever  asked  their  servants  to  toil,  ever 
shining  and  resplendent  as  ladies,  as  noble,  patriotic,  all- 
enduring,  were  the  unconquered  women  of  the  South. 
When  unassailed  by  the  diseases  ever  attendant  upon  sud- 
denly changed  life  and  condition,  they  fought  with  their 


93 


needles,  their  looms,  tlieir  spinning-wheels,  ay,  with  the 
hoe  and  the  plough,  as  defiantly,  as  heroically  as  their 
bearded  husbands,  sons,  and  kinsmen  in  the  field  of  battle. 
They  willingly  gave  their  all  to  the  cause  of  their  coun- 
try. Their  relations,  their  homes,  their  servants,  their 
jewels,  their  comforts,  their  luxuries,  they  withheld  nothing 
save  their  honor,  and  thus  has  the  glory  of  the  maids  and 
matrons  of  the  South  emerged  from  the  din  and  shock 
and  ruin  of  those  four  years  of  terrible  war,  undimmed, 
fresh,  and  sparkling,  the  immortal  admiration  of  the 
world. 

As  we  have  mentioned  elsewhere,  the  women  of  the 
South,  near  the  close  of  the  struggle,  when  they  had  no 
more  to  give,  were  forming  associations  to  sell  their  beau- 
tiful locks  to  the  barbers  of  France,  that  the  sinking  treas- 
ury of  the  land  they  loved  might  be  sustained. 

The  history-famed  patriotism  of  ancient  Greece,  Rome, 
and  Carthage  did  not  surpass  that  of  the  women  of  the 
South. 

After  a  tedious  and  sorrowful  journey  of  many  weary 
hours,  the  M'Donalds  found  themselves  within  the  Confed- 
erate lines,  once  more  beneath  the  ill-starred  banner  which 
still  floated  defiantly  in  the  fierce  grasp  of  Hood  and  Hardee. 

Among  the  first  to  greet  them,  and  to  attend  to  their 
immediate  necessities,  as  well  as  to  those  of  other  unfortu- 
nate refugees,  was  General  Hood  himself,  who  had  known 
the  late  Colonel  Hardeman  McDonald.     He  was  upon  the 


94 


eve  of  that  northern  march  which  resulted  so  fatally  in 
Tennessee,  months  afterward,  and  therefore  could  devote 
but  little  time  to  any  particular  person ;  but  through  his 
kiiidness  the  ladies  experienced  many  comforts  which  they 
would  not  otherwise  have  received. 

"  Where  shall  we  go,  Myrtis  ? "  asked  Mrs.  McDonald, 
as  they  gazed  in  bewilderment  about  them  upon  the  crowd 
of  refugees  and  soldiers. 

"  Yonder  comes  one  who  may  aid  us,"  exclaimed  the 
young  lady  in  a  joyful  tone,  and  pointing  toward  a  troop 
of  cavalry. 

Looking  quickly  in  that  direction,  Mrs.  M'Donald  be- 
held Captain  Frank  Bartow  galloping  toward  them. 

"  Ah !  I  expected  you  would  come,"  said  the  young 
officer,  as  he  halted  his  horse  near  them,  and  sprang  to  the 
ground.  "  Indeed,  I  knew  Sherman's  magnanimous  order 
would  force  you  to  hurry  from  Atlanta.  And  now  where 
are  you  going?"  he  continued,  after  exchanging  a  hearty 
salutation  with  each. 

Captain  Frank  Bartow  had  unproved  greatly  in  appear- 
ance since  we  saw  him  pale  and  feeble  upon  that  sorry 
horse  in  Atlanta.  His  eye  was  brighter,  his  complexion 
fresher,  and  his  step  quick  and  firm.  * 

"  Where  are  we  going  ? "  repeated  Mrs.  McDonald, 
mournfully.  "Indeed,  that  is  the  question  which  drives 
us  nearly  crazy,  Frank.  Here  we  are,  safe  out  of  Federal 
hands,  and  you  see  what  we  have  been  able  to  bring  with 


95 


us — two  bundles  ;  and  old  Myra  carries  her  dear  master's 
picture — " 

"  Intend  to  freeze  to  it  twill  tlie  war  is  ober,"  replied 
Myra,  enthusiastically,  *'  an'  den  hang  him  up  in  de  parlor 
again,  please  God  ! " 

"  I  thought  you  would  be  at  a  loss  where  to  go,"  con- 
tinued Captain  Bartow,  "  and  have  been  speaking  to  a 
relative  of  mine  who  resides  near  Oxford,  in  Newton 
County.  He  is  here,  somewhere;  I  will  hunt  him  up 
presently.  He  is  a  member  of  the  relief  committee  from 
that  county — " 

"  But,  Captain  Bartow,"  exclaimed  Myitis,  "  you  can- 
not expect  that  we  can  consent  to  become  a  burden  to  your 
relative — " 

"  My  dear  young  lady,  please  do  not  say  a  word,"  in- 
terrupted Captain  Bartow.  "  I  have  a  kind  of  right  to 
take  care  of  you — but  here  comes  my  cousin,  Mr.  Alex- 
ander." 

"  I  know  him  very  well,"  said  Mrs.  M'Donald,  as  she 
extended  her  hand  to  an  aged,  white-haired  gentleman  who 
joined  them. 

He  had  been  a  noble-looking  man  in  his  prime,  and, 
although  nearly  seventy  winters  had  frosted  his  thin  locks 
until  they  were  as  white  as  snow,  and  feeble  health  had 
greatly  impaired  his  once-powerful  frame,  he  was  still  an 
imposing-looking  gentleman,  despite  the  stoop  in  his 
shoulders,  the  crutch  stick  in  his  hand,  and  the  well-worn 


96  THE  m'donalds 


suit  of  brown  jeans.  His  clear  blue  eye  was  still  brigbt 
and  beaming,  and  a  genial  smile  was  engraved  around  his 
handsomely-cut  hps. 

"  I  have  heard  all  about  you,  Mrs.  M'Donald,"  said  the 
old  gentleman,  heartily,  in  a  tone  which  showed  that  his 
age  had  not  touched  a  deep  and  prepossessiDg  voice. 
"  Frank  and  I  have  arranged  the  whole  matter.  You  and 
Miss  Myrtls,  who,  I  see,  has  continued  to  increase  in  beauty, 
are  to  go  with  me  to  my  place  near  Oxford.  You  can 
remain  as  long  as  you  Hke — I  hope  until  the  war  is  over. 
My  wife  will  be  happy  to  welcome  you  to  all  that  we  have 
left — and  that  is  enough  to  live  on  for  a  time.  Sherman, 
I  think,  will  have  to  look  to  his  rear,  and  I  hope  he  will 
soon  be  tossed  out  of  Atlanta." 

The  old  man,  always  remarkable  for  his  happy  dis- 
position, was  as  hopeful  as  ever,  and  it  was  soon  resolved 
that  the  M'Donalds  should  accompany  him  to  Newton 
County. 

"  As  for  me,"  said  Captain  Bartow,  "  I  go  with  Gen- 
eral Hood,  hoping  to  fall  in  with  my  old  leader.  General 
Wheeler." 

Parting  was  again  hasty,  but  before  the  young  officer 
rode  away,  he  said  to  his  friends : 

"  Yonder  comes  some  one  \vhom  you  have  never  seen, 
and  yet  he  is  a  very  important  personage  in  our  hard- 
pressed  Confederacy,  and  is  to  review  the  army  to-mor- 


OR,   THE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN   HOMES.  97 

Looking  in  the  direction  Captain  Bartow  indicated,  the 
ladies  saw  a  party  of  horsemen  riding  a  few  paces  from 
them,  bnt,  knowing  all  of  them  except  one,  they  fixed  their 
eyes  upon  that  one. 

The  stranger  was  a  tall,  thin  gentleman,  with  a  very 
military  posture  in  his  saddle,  a  look  of  extraordinary  res- 
olution deeply  engraved  upon  his  attenuated  features. 

"  It  is  our  President !  It  is  noble  Jefferson  Davis ! " 
burst  from  the  lips  of  Myrtis  M'Donald,  who,  in  common 
with  all  patriotic  women  of  the  South,  held  the  distinguished 
chieftain  of  the  Confederacy  in  profound  love  and  rever- 
ence. 

"Yes,  it  is  President  Davis,  who  has  more  weight, 
more  responsibility  upon  his  shoulders  than  any  other 
leader  in  Christendom,"  said  Captain  Bartow,  uncovering 
his  head  as  the  great  statesman  rode  rapidly  past.  "  If 
his  countrymen  gain  their  independence  his  name  will  rank 
second  only  to  that  of  Washington ;  if  his  cause  falls,  as  it 
appears  it  must,  then  Jefferson  Davis  will  be  branded  as  a 
rebel  and  a  traitor,  and,  if  captured,  will  be  shut  up  in  a 
dungeon,  like  a  felon,  loaded  with  chains,  assailed  with 
contumely — perhaps  (may  God  forbid !)  led  to  a  scaffold." 

"  All  the  bayonets  of  the  North  can  never  thrust  from 
my  heart  the  love,  the  respect,  the  reverence  I  feel  for  the 
first  choice  of  my  country ! "  replied  Mrs.  M'Donald. 
"  Whether  he  falls  or  rises,  he  will  ever  be  dear  to  the 
hearts  of  all  true  Southerners." 
5 


98  THE   MCDONALDS: 


"  No  doubt  of  that,"  remarked  Mr.  Alexander,  quietly, 
"  but  the  sins  of  the  Southern  people — their  failures  being 
considered  sins  by  their  enemies — will  be  visited  upon  the 
head  of  their  cliief.  But,  come  ;  let's  us  hope  that  no  such 
melancholy  catastrophe  awaits  the  Southern  Confederacy. 
Cheer  up !  that's  my  motto.  Come,  ladies,  we  will  have 
to  take  a  long  and  circuitous  wagon-ride — rough  travelling, 
and  a  very  sorry  team,  too,  but  the  best  that  I  can  find. 
Do  your  talking  at  a  double-quick,  while  I  hunt  up  my 
team." 

The  old  gentleman  hurried  away,  and  Captain  Bartow 
received  from  the  M'Donalds  a  hasty  but  succinct  sketch 
of  their  trials  in  Atlanta,  to  all  of  which  he  listened 
eagerly. 

"I  hope  I  may  have  the  fortune  some  day  to  meet 
Major  Inqng  as  a  friend,  and  never  sword  in  hand,"  re- 
marked the  generous  Confederate.  "He  has  gained  my 
eternal  gratitude  for  his  kindness.  Flaskill  ?  I  will  remem- 
ber his  name.  Mr.  Beth  Cashmore,  I  fear,  will  be  very 
careful  not  to  put  his  hooked  nose  outside  of  the  Federal 
camp." 

The  return  of  Mr.  Alexander  soon  broke  off  the  con- 
versation, and  Captain  Bartow  again  bade  his  friends  fare- 
well, only  lingering  to  see  them  depart,  hauled  away  in  a 
wretched  wagon,  drawn  by  four  miserable  mules. 

"  Alas ! "  sighed  the  young  oflScer,  as  he  gazed  after 
them,  "  where  now  is  that  magnificent  carriage,  and  those 


ORj    THE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN   HOMES.  99 

blooded  horses,  behind  which  the  wealthy  M'Donalds  used 
to  ride?  No  doubt  some  abolition  dame  flaunts  to  church 
in  that  same  carriage  upon  holy  Puritanic  soil,  and  thanks 
God  that  she  never  owned  negroes ;  and  as  for  the  horses, 
poor  fellows,  their  bones  arc  bleaching  in  Northern  Geor- 
gia, no  doubt." 

Owing  to  the  roughness  of  the  roads,  and  inefficiency 
of  their  team,  the  M'Donalds  did  not  reach  the  home  of 
Mr.  Alexander  until  the  third  da}^  after  parting  with  Cap- 
tain Bartow. 

"  Here  is  my  home,"  said  Mr.  Alexander,  as  they  halted 
before  an  elegant  mansion,  but  whose  outward  appearance 
bore  that  strange  look  of  decay  which  had  begun  to  fall 
upon  the  habitations  of  the  Southerners.  "  I  used  to  take 
pride,  ladies,  in  the  appearance  of  my  home ;  every  man 
should  do  so,  but  the  fear  that  all  my  labor  will  be  lost,  as 
the  abolitionists  have  passed  a  bill  confiscating  all  rebel 
property,  prevents  me  from  doing  more  than  merely  patch- 
ing up." 

The  old  gentleman's  tone  was  quite  sad,  and  the  ladies 
saw  that  his  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 

"  Not  only  that,  and  that  is  bad  enough — the  thought 
that  some  base  fellow  may  possess  the  fruits  of  my  toil  for 
more  than  half  a  century,  or  that  the  place  may  be  burned 
dow^n — bad  enough,  all  that — but  it  is  the  reflection  that  1 
have  no  children  now  to  inherit  after  me.  But  yonder  comes 
ray  dear  wife — very  old,  and  feeble  too,  as  you  perceive  by 


100  THE  m'donalds  ; 

her  slow  and  painful  approach.  But  she  is  all  that  is  left 
to  me  now,  and  therefore  very  dear  to  me." 

It  was  affecting  to  see  the  old  gentleman  hasten  to  meet 
the  aged  partner  of  all  his  joys  and  sorrows — all  sorrows 
now,  and  to  see  him  greet  her,  as  affectionately  as  if  they 
were  still  in  the  prime  of  rosy-lipped  youth.  Age,  nor  sor- 
row, had  quenched  the  warm  love  which  made  their  old 
hearts  one,  and  hand  in  hand  the  pair  hastened  hack  to 
the  wagon  to  welcome  the  refugees  from  Atlanta. 

"  Come  into  the  house,  ladies,"  said  the  old  white- 
hau-ed  lady,  as  her  husband  assisted  the  McDonalds  from 
their  uncomfortable  quarters  in  the  *  shackly  wagon.'  *'  I 
am  very  glad  that  you  have  come,  for  we  are  quite  lonely 
now." 

Myrtis  noticed  that  the  voice  of  the  old  lady  was  sadly 
tremulous  as  she  used  the  word  "  now,"  and  she  returned 
her  motherly  caress  warmly. 

Glancing  toward  Mr.  Alexander,  she  saw  that  he  had 
hm-ried  to  a  corner  of  the  front  yard,  and  was  kneeling  in 
prayer  before  the  tombstones  of  three  graves. 

"  They  are  the  graves  of  our  three  sons,"  sighed  Mrs. 
Alexander,  as  she  brushed  a  tear  from  her  cheek.  "  James, 
Henry,  and  Edward,  all  gi-ew  to  manhood,  and  gave  fair 
promise  of  useful  lives.  But  James  was  killed  in  Virginia, 
Henry  in  Tennessee,  and  Edward  before  Atlanta,  My  hus- 
band never  rested  until  he  brought  the  bodies  of  our  poor 
boys  home,  and  buried  them  there  in  that  corner;  where, 


OK,   THE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN   HOMES.  101 


when  little  curly-liaircd  boys,  tlicy  used  to  love  to  play — it 
was  tlieir  favorite  spot — God  bless  tbem  !  and  every  day 
their  poor  fother  goes  there  to  pray  for  strength  to  bear  up 
under  his  great  affliction." 

Tears  fell  freely  from  the  eyes  of  the  M'Donalds  as  they 
listened  to  this  affecting  tale,  and  Mrs.  McDonald  wept  bit- 
terly as  the  faces  of  her  five  slain  sons  arose  in  her 
memory. 

"Bear  up,  my  child,"  said  the  aged  hostess,  pressing 
the  hand  of  the  widow,  "  God  puts  many  crosses  upon  us, 
but  He  does  it  all  for  our  good,  all  for  our  good,  never 
doubt  it.  Perhaps  our  children — I  have  heard  that  you 
have  lost  several — are  spared  many  trials  in  being  taken 
from  this  world.  God  gave  them  to  us,  and  we  gave  them 
to  our  country.  I  have  a  dear  and  lovely  daughter,  too, 
but  she  is  in  Virginia,  trying  to  get  through  to  Elmira,  in 
New  York,  where  we  have  heard  her  husband  is  a  pris- 
oner, sick  and  languishing." 

They  found  a  quiet  and  comfortable  refuge  there,  in  the 
home  of  the  hospitable  old  pair,  and  soon  came  to  regard 
them  as  relatives,  and  not  as  strangers.  They  found  em- 
ployment, too,  in  spinning,  weaving,  and  knitting  for  the 
ragged  soldiers  of  their  impoverished  land,  and  so  time 
stole  on  until  the  rumor  came,  in  the  latter  part  of  Novem- 
ber, 1864,  that  Sherman  had  evacuated  Atlanta,  and  was 
plunging  through  Georgia,  sword  and  torch  in  hand,  march- 
ing with  a  devastating  front  sixty  miles  broad. 


102  THE  MCDONALDS; 

CHAPTER  VII. 

THE     COMIX G     TEMPEST 

The  rumor,  in  its  wildest  form,  was  true.  Sherman, 
with  sword  and  torch,  was  plunging  toward  the  sea,  and 
hapless  Atlanta  was  again  crushed,  mutilated,  nearly  anni- 
hilated, by  those  who  had  depopulated  her,  and  were  una- 
ble longer  to  hold  her. 

On  the  12th  of  November  the  powerful  right  wing  of 
that  vast  army  moved  from  Atlanta,  and  began  that  terrible 
inarch  through  a  helpless  country.  On  the  14th,  the  left 
wing,  no  less  powerful  than  the  right,  began  its  march. 

On  page  27  of  General  Sherman's  official  report,  we 
read  these  simple  words  : 

"  In  the  mean  time  Captain  0.  M.  Poe  had  thoroughly 
destroyed  Atlanta,  save  its  mere  dwelling-houses  and 
churches." 

On  page  76  the  reader  will  find  this  remarkable  state- 
ment from  the  pen  of  one  of  General  Sherman's  staff  offi- 
cers, as  he  writes  of  the  abandoned  city  : 

"  The  hand  of  Time,  with  a  higher  degree  of  civilization^ 
can  only  efface  the  marks  infficted  by  a  warlike  occupa- 
tion." 

Had  the  Federal  been  exact  in  his  language,  and  placed 
the  word  "only"  before  the  words  "the  hand  of  Time," 
his  meaning  would  be  clearer ;  or  did  he  mean  that  "  the 


OE,    THE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN    HOMES.  103 

hand  of  Time,"  potent  as  it  is,  and  aided  by  "  a  higher  de- 
gree of  civilization  "  than  has  ever  blessed  this  barbarous 
South,  can  "only  efface  the  marks  inflicted"  by  the  occu- 
pation of  the  Federal  army,  and  never  restore  her  former 
prosperity  to  the  mutilated  "  Gate  City  ? " 

Or  was  this  "  thorough  destruction  "  of  Atlanta  a  proof 
of  that  "  higher  degree  of  civilization  "  so  greatly  lacking 
in  our  benighted  land  ? 

But  Atlanta  was  "  thoroughly  destroyed,"  and  many  of 
those  "  mere  dwelling-houses  "  were  destroyed  also.  Many 
had  been  defaced,  shattered,  ruined  by  military  occupation ; 
many  caught  flames  from  the  blazing  public  buildings,  and 
added  their  smouldering  embers  to  that  vast  mass  of  ruin 
and  misery,  the  ashes  of  Southern  homes. 

The  conqueror,  in  deserting  his  costly  conquest,  dealt 
the  unfortunate  city  a  parting  blow,  beneath  which  she 
reels  and  staggers  to  this  day,  and  will  probably  reel  and 
stagger  for  many  years. 

Mr.  Seth  Cashmore,  who  remained  in  the  city  up  to  the 
date  of  its  evacuation  by  the  Federals,  wisely  concluded 
that  it  would  be  dangerous  for  him  to  remain  behind.  He 
was  greatly  chag-rined  when  he  learned  that  his  Federal 
friends  were  about  to  leave  the  city,  and  that  his  only  safety 
lay  in  marching  with  them. 

He  felt  quite  anxious  concerning  the  wisdom  of  the 
step,  for  he  had  sufficient  sagacity  to  know  that  if  a  pow- 
erful army  of  Confederates  should  check  Sherman's  ad- 


lOi  THE   MCDONALDS  ; 

vance  for  a  single  week,  the  Federal  general  would  be 
ruined.  Nothing  but  luck,  which  makes  nine-tenths  of  the 
greatness  of  many  military  leaders,  could  carry  Sherman 
to  tlie  sea,  and  Mr.  Cashmore  was  very  uneasy. 

Yet,  as  he  had  to  go,  and  could  not  carry  the  last  resi- 
dence of  the  M'Donalds  with  him,  he  and  his  valiant  friend, 
Captain  Tom  Flaskill,  applied  the  torch  to-  its  deserted 
walls,  as  soon  as  Major  Irving  vacated  the  premises. 

It  was  some  satisfaction  to  the  malicious  soul  of  the 
speculator  as  he  watched  the  flames  consume  the  last  pos- 
session of  his  escaped  victims.  It  was  by  no  means  all 
that  was  craved  by  his  "  great  maw  of  revenge,''  but  it  was 
something,  a  delicious  morsel,  a  tidbit,  very  pleasant  to  roll 
under  his  tongue,  and  he  smacked  his  thick  hps,  grinned 
widely,  rubbed  his  great  hands,  and  winked  his  toad-like 
eyes  as  he  contemplated  the  burning  mansion,  on  the  night 
of  the  13th  of  November,  1864. 

The  flames  roared  through  the  empty  hall,  leaped  into 
the  plundered  parlors,  sprang  through  the  vacated  rooms, 
licked  the  stripped  walls,  devoured  the  stairs,  reached  the 
roof,  and  then ,  uniting  in  one  great  pyramid  of  fire,  rapidly 
reduced  the  noble  mansion  to  ashes,  leaving  only  the  skele- 
ton chimneys  standing,  gaunt,  grim,  and  ghastly,  to  mark 
the  spot  where  had  been  a  Southern  home. 

There  were  flames  in  every  part  of  the  city,  for  Atlanta 
was  being  "  thoroughly  destroyed  !  "  Noble  stores,  once 
the  busy  marts  of  commerce,  splendid  edifices,  proud  tro- 


OB,   THE   ASHES    OF    SOUTHERN    HOMES.  105 

pliies  of  the  business  world  ;  grand  structures,  in  wliicli  the 
hardy  mechanic  had  wrought  in  noble  labor ;  public  build- 
ings, the  result  of  private  and  public  pride  and  enterprise — 
all  these  went  down,  crumbling  to  ashes,  dissolving  in 
smoke,  vanishing  in  vapor  before  Federal  torches,  blazing 
to  restoi"e  the  Union. 

But  Mr.  Seth  Cashmore  enjoyed  the  lurid  horrors  of 
that  scene  far  more  keenly  than  any  mere  mercenary  who 
brandished  the  torch  because  he  Avas  paid  to  destroy.  Seth 
Cashmore  had  a  score  or  more  of  private  hates  and  person- 
al dislikes  to  gratify,  and  the  license  of  a  military  burning 
gave  him  ample  field  to  exercise  his  privileges. 

In  after-days,  when  the  refugees,  di'iven  from  Atlanta 
by  General  Sherman's  celebrated  depopulating  order, 
returned  to  seek  their  homes,  too  often  for  enumeration 
they  saw  heaps  of  blackening  ashes,  where  their  homes 
had  been ;  or  often  found  merely  a  stable  or  a  cow  shed 
left. 

Having  glutted  his  appetite  for  burning,  Mr.  Seth  Cash- 
more,  who  had  learned  where  the  M'Donalds  had  sought 
and  found  refuge,  attached  himself  to  the  left  wing  of  the 
Federal  army.  His  boundless  malice  had  suggested  to  him 
that  bis  hate  might  still  further  be  gratified ;  the  fortune  of 
war  might  again  place  the  persecuted  family  within  his 
power.  He  suspected  that  the  march  was  to  be  one  of 
unsparing  devastation,  and  he  scented  a  huge  spoil  ahead, 
gold  and  silver  plate,  gold  and  silver  watches,  jewels,  rings, 
5* 


106  THE    MCDONALDS  ; 

and  breast-pins,  hoards,  ''  rebel  honrds  "  of  specie  ;  and  he 
and  Captain  Flaskill  drew  dazzling  pictures  of  the  riches 
thej  were  to  snatch  from  ten-ified  rebel  men  and  women. 
Noble  pastime  !  Well  suited  to  the  taste  and  talent  of 
Mr.  Seth  Cashmoro,  and  spirits  like  his. 

On  page  79  of  General  Sherman's  official  report,  penned 
by  his  stafif  officer,  the  reader  will  find  these  signfficant 
■words : 

"  The  order  for  relentless  devastation  of  the  coun- 
try was  strictly  carried  out." 

Perhaps  Mr.  Seth  Cashmore  had  seen  the  order  here 
referred  to,  by  the  frank-spoken  stafif  officer,  and  at  once 
saw  therein  his  commission  as  a  "loyal  man"  to  devastate 
to  the  best  of  his  poor  abilities.  At  all  events,  he  resolved 
to  do  so,  and  therefore  attached  himself  to  the  company  of 
the  valorous  Captain  Tom  Flaskill,  as  a  sutler,  for  he 
knew  his  shining  abilities  in  that  line,  and  judged  that 
he  could  legitimately,  in  the  way  of  trade,  wrest  much 
booty  from  that  glorious  company  of  "  bummers." 

The  unfortunate  McDonalds  who  had  fled  from  place  to 
place,  since  their  home  in  Northern  Georgia  had  gone  to 
add  to  the  immense  heaps  of  the  ashes  of  Southern  homes, 
were  again  thrown  into  alarm  by  the  fearful  rumors  from 
Atlanta. 

The  refngees,  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Alexander  were 
seated  at  dinner  on  the  19th  of  November,  when  one  of  the 
negroes  hurried  into  the  room,  with  the  information  that  a 


OR,    THE   ASHES   OF    SOUTHERN    HOMES.  107 


largo  body  of  blue-coated  cavalry  was  approaching  the 
house. 

"  I  think  the  woman  is  mistaken,"  said  Mr.  Alexander, 
as  all  hastily  arose,  and  hun-icd  to  the  piazza.  "  It  may  be 
a  body  of  Confederate  cavalry.  I  place  no  credit  in  these 
wild  rmnors.  If  Sherman  has  really  evacuated  Atlanta,  he 
will  aim  for  Macon." 

Upon  reaching  the  piazza,  however,  the  old  gentleman 
saw  his  error.  Quite  a  large  body  of  Federal  horse  ap- 
peared in  sight,  and  galloped  rapidly  past  the  residence  of 
Mr.  Alexander,  pushing  on  at  great  speed. 

"  Where  can  they  be  going,  and  after  what?"  thought 
the  old  man,  as  he  gazed  after  the  cavalry.  "  If  they  hold 
on  in  that  direction,  they  will  soon  be  in  Walton  County.' 

Not  one  of  the  Federals  halted  until  the  whole  force 
had  passed,  and  then  Mr.  Alexander  was  surprised  to  see 
the  troop  suddenly  pause,  while  one  oflScer  rode  back  to 
the  gate  cand  dismounted. 

"Mother,"  exclaimed  Myrtis  M'Donald,  "it  is  Major 
Irving ! " 

It  was  that  generous  oflBcer ;  he  had  recognized  the 
ladies  as  he  galloped  past,  and,  having  halted  his  forces 
upon  a  rising  ground,  returned  to  speak  a  few  words. 

Both  ladies  hastened  to  meet  him  as  he  entered  the 
yard,  and  he  smiled  with  pleasure  as  he  grasped  their 
hands. 

"  I  was  sure  it  was  you,"  said  he,  in  his  pleasant  tone, 


108  THE   MCDONALDS 


"  and  rode  back  to  see.  I  am  glad  that  I  saw  you,  and  yet 
very  soiTf  that  you  are  here." 

"And  why  sorry,  Major  Irving?"  asked  Mrs.  M'Don- 
ald. 

The  young  officer  rephed  gravely : 

"  Our  army  is  on  the  march,  Mrs.  M'Donald,  and  a 
portion  of  the  left  wing,  if  not  all  of  it,  -will  pass  through 
Newlon  County.  The  army  is  commanded  to  subsist  upon 
the  country  as  it  marches,  and  to  destroy  all  that  it  cannot 
consume,  all  that  may  be  of  the  slightest  use  to  the  Con- 
federate Government.  Of  course  there  will  be  much  plun- 
dering of  private  property,  for  in  so  large  an  army  as  ours 
there  must  be  some  very  bad  men,  men  who  will  not  hesi- 
tate to  oppress  the  helpless.  I  hope,  however,  for  the 
honor  of  the  American  name  and  the  glory  of  the  Union 
cause,  no  outrages  will  be  committed  which  shall  make  the 
nation  blush.  Still,  I  advise  you  and  your  friends  to  con- 
ceal your  more  valuable  articles,  and  I  will  do  what  I  can 
to  protect  you,  in  leaving  a  guard  for  a  day  or  two,  by 
which  time  the  danger  may  be  over." 

He  turned  to  his  command  and  beckoned  to  a  subor- 
dinate, who  immediately  rode  up  to  the  gate  to  hear  the 
commands  of  his  chief. 

"  Lieutenant  Giles,"  said  the  major,  "  I  suppose  you 
have  no  objection  to  doing  a  httle  guard  duty.  I  select 
you  because  you  are  an  officer  and  a  gentleman,  and  ap- 
preciate the  respect  due  to  ladies.     Please  return  to  the 


OR,   THE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN   HOMES.  109 

command  and  select  any  one  of  the  men  you  prefer.  Re- 
main two  days,  or  until  the  rear  has  passed,  and  then  hasten 
to  join  me  at  Madison,  if  possible." 

The  lieutenant  touched  his  cap  and  rode  back  to  the 
troop,  from  which  he  soon  returned  with  an  intelligent  and 
manly-looking  trooper,  who  bowed  respectfully  as  he  saw 
the  ladies. 

"  And  now,  ladies,"  said  the  noble-hearted  major,  "  I 
have  done  all  that  I  can  do.  Should  we  never  meet  again, 
I  beg  that  you  will  bear  me  in  kind  remembrance." 

"  Indeed  we  will,  Major  Irving,"  exclaimed  the  ladies, 
as  he  galloped  away. 

"Ah,  what  a  pity  all  our  Federal  foes  are  not  like 
Major  Irving ! "  said  Myrtis  M'Donald. 

"  All ! "  echoed  her  mother,  bitterly  too,  as  sha  re- 
membered her  dead  and  her  homes  in  ashes.  "  Would  to 
Heaven  a  moiety  of  them  were  like  him  !  He  is  a  Federal 
Bayard,  and  I  pray  he  may  pass  safe  through  the  war,  to 
cheer  the  heart  of  his  mother,  who  must,  indeed,  be  proud 
of  so  noble  a  son." 

Myrtis  M'Donald  had,  with  feminine  ingenuity,  gleaned 
from  conversations  with  the  Federal  major,  that  there  was 
another  lady  in  the  North  who  thought  highly  of  him,  and 
she  mentally  prayed  that  he  might  escape  all  dangers,  and 
live  to  bless  and  be  blessed  by  that  fair-haired  damsel. 

The  day  passed  off  in  quiet  until  near  the  hour  of  sun- 
set, although  several  of  the  neighbors  of  Mr.  Alexander  had 


110  TliE   MCDONALDS; 

dashed  by  the  house,  driving  before  them  mules  and  cattle 
to  hide  them  from  the  enemy. 

AVell-founded  reports  of  the  "  relentless  devastation  of 
the  country  "  were  rife,  and  a  general  panic  was  upon  the 
whole  population,  white  and  black. 

Mr.  Alexander,  descended  from  a  noble  Revolutionary 
family,  would  have  remained  at  his  home  to  brave  the 
storm,  even  though  no  Federal  guard  made  it  apparently 
secure.  He  had  no  stock  to  conceal,  except  the  four 
miserable  mules  we  have  already  mentioned.  The  war 
had  long  since  swept  away  the  numerous  draught  animals 
with  which  he  used  to  cultivate  his  large  plantation.  His 
cattle  were  also  few  in  number,  for  nearly  all  had  gone  to 
supply  the  wants  of  the  soldiers,  or  of  the  soldiers'  families. 
A  generous  and  humane  man,  a  type  of  the  great-hearted, 
charitable  planters  of  Georgia,  he  had  given  liberally  and 
continually ;  perfectly  content  so  that  the  independence  of 
the  South  should  be  achieved,  though  he  might  be  left 
penniless. 

He  had  no  idea  of  flying  from  the  Federals,  though  the 
highly-colored  and  (alas !  for  the  honor  of  the  American 
name)  too  truthful  reports  of  Federal  barbarities  might 
terrify  the  heart  of  a  stronger  and  younger  man  than  old 
silver-haired  Jerome  Alexander. 

The  great  hostile  host,  numbering,  some  said,  nearly 
one  hundred  thousand  formidably  armed  men,  no  doubt 
over  seventy  thousand,  had  swung  loose  from  "  thoroughly 


OR,   THE   ASUES   OF   SOUTHERN    HOMES.  Ill 

destroyed  "  Atlanta,  and  precipitated  itself  upon  a  country 
almost  totally  defenceless.  No  Confederate  force  of  strength 
was  between  Shennan  and  tlie  sea.  Hood  and  Ins  gallant 
army,  at  that  time,  were  in  Tennessee,  pushing  General 
Thomas  back  upon  Nashville,  and  General  Sherman  had 
no  opponents  save  a  few  thousand  raw  militia,  aided  by 
General  AVliceler's  small  cavalry  command. 

But  the  Federal  general,  whether  in  pursuance  of  a  de- 
termined policy  of  devastation,  or  prompted  by  a  fear  of 
imminent  danger,  moved  and  struck  with  the  fierceness  of 
a  merciless  victor.  Columns  of  Federals,  numbering  thou- 
sands, swept  like  hurricanes  of  wrath  and  destruction 
through  the  defenceless  counties  of  Fayette,  De  Kalb, 
Spauldhig,  Newton,  Walton,  Henry,  Morgan,  Jasper,  Bibb, 
Putnam,  Hancock,  Baldwin,  Washington,  and  all  those 
counties  of  unhappy  Georgia  smitten  by  the  furious  swoop 
of  that  fearful  march  to  the  sea,  whose  annihilating  track 
is  marked  to  this  day,  and  will  be  marked  for  many  a  year 
to  come,  by  the  ashes  of  Southern  homes. 

The  most  sluggish  imagination  can  easily  depict  the 
vastness  of  the  devastation  inflicted  upon  the  helpless  peo- 
ple of  Georgia  by  those  crushing  columns  of  thousands 
and  tens  of  thousands  of  vindictive  foes,  when  we  find 
upon  page  27  of  General  Sherman's  oflScial  report  that  the 
invaders  "  were  instructed  to  live  chiefiy,  if  not  solely,  upon 
the  country^ 

Here  the  novelist  pauses  for  a  moment,  to  place  before 


112  THE  m'donalds  ; 

the  reader,  wlio  may  demand  unexaggerated  facts,  the  fol- 
lowing extract  from  General  Sherman's  official  rejDort, 
page  37 :       ^ 

"  We  have  also  consumed  the  corn  and  fodder  in  a  re- 
gion of  country  thirty  mOes  on  either  side  of  a  line  from 
Atlanta  to  Savannah,  as  also  the  sioeet-fotatoeSy  cattle^  hogSy 
sheep,  and  ponltri/,  and  have  carried  away  more  than  ten 
thousand  horses  and  mules,  as  weil  as  a  countless  number 
of  their  slaves.  I  estimate  the  damage  done  to  the  State 
of  Georgia  and  its  military  resources  at  one  hundred  mil- 
lions of  dollars,  at  least  twenty  millions  of  which  has  in- 
ured to  our  advantage,  and  the  remainder  (eighty  millions 
of  dollars)  is  simple  waste  and  destruction. 

"This  may  seem  a  hard  species  of  warfare,  but  it 
brings  the  sad  realities  of  war  home  to  those  who  have 
been  directly  or  indirectly  instrumental  in  involving  us  in 
its  attendant  calamities.*' 

We  make  no  attack  upon  the  great  Federal  leader  of  this 
celebrated  march,  but  merely  use  his  own  statement,  that 
the  uninformed  reader  may  obtain  a  correct  idea  of  "  the 
hard  species  of  warfare  "  the  Federal  authorities  deemed 
vitally  necessary  for  the  subjugation  of  the  Southern  Con- 
federacy. The  atrocious  maxim  that  "the  end  justifies 
the  means  "  seemed  to  have  become  the  creed  of  those 
who  warred  to  restore  the  Union,  and,  most  assuredly,  the 
ruin,  havoc,  misery,  and  woe  along  that  line  sixty  miles 
broad,  warranted  the  unfortunate  helpless  of  Georgia  in  be- 


OR,   THE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN    HOMES.  113 


lieviiig  that  the  days  of  Alaric,  or  Attila,  or  Mohammed  had 
returned  to  curse  the  earth. 

The  sun  was  still  more  than  an  hour  high  when  a  troop 
of  mounted  Federals  halted  before  the  humble  residence 
of  Mrs.  Jasper,  about  three  miles  distant  from  the  house 
of  Mr.  Alexander.  Mrs.  Jasper  was  the  widow  of  Henry 
Jasper,  who  had  fallen  in  one  of  the  battles  before  Atlanta, 
leaving  a  wife  and  five  small  children  to  contend  with  grim 
poverty  and  gnawing  want. 

Bitter  and  sore  had  been  the  trials  of  the  poor  widow 
after  the  death  of  that  beloved  one,  whose  stout  heart  and 
sturdy  arm  had  ever  liberally  provided  for  his  family.  But 
she  had  planted  and  reaped,  laboring  in  the  field  like  a 
slave,  through  rain  and  heat,  struggling  to  provide  food 
for  the  five  tender  ones  dependent  upon  her  unaided  exer- 
tions. 

True,  the  noble-hearted  Jerome  Alexander  had  given 
her  all  the  aid  he  could,  but  as  there  were  scores  of  suffer- 
ing families  demanding  his  help,  Mrs.  Jasper  had  received 
but  occasional  aid.  Yet  she  had  gathered  the  wheat  sown 
by  her  dead  husband,  shedding  bitter  tears  as  she  remem- 
bered the  lost ;  she  had  cultivated  and  gathered  the  com 
planted  by  that  same  dear  hand,  and  piously  returned 
thanks  to  Heaven  as  she  contemplated  the  fruit  of  her  la- 
bor, and  rejoiced  that  though  her  supply  was  scanty,  yet 
there  was  enough  to  feed  her  little  ones  until  another  year 
might  bring  better  days. 


114  THE    MCDONALDS  ; 

Of  hogs  and  poultry  she  had  enough  to  bear  her 
through  the  comhig  winter,  and  the  single  cow  she  pos- 
sessed, the  pet  of  her  children,  was  a  rich  ally  for  her 
household  wants. 

Her  house  was  an  humble  structure  of  logs,  roughly 
but  comfortably  boarded  up  without,  and  neatly  though 
plainly  ceiled  within.  It  stood  not  far  from  the  main  road, 
unpretending  and  unobtrusive,  with  a  small,  rudely-fenced 
yard  in  front.  Mr.  Jasper  had  belonged  to  that  greatly 
maligned  class  of  Southern  citizens,  stigmatized  by  the 
slanderers  of  the  misrepresented  South,  under  the  name  of 
"  poor  whites,"  that  is,  those  who  owned  no  slaves,  and 
little,  if  any  thing  else,  but  literally  earned  their  bread  in  the 
"  sweat  of  their  faces."  Let  the  records  of  the  great  Civdl 
War  tell  how  nobly  this  class  fought ;  with  what  eagerness 
its  humble  representatives  sprang  to  arms ;  what  deeds  of 
heroic  courage  and  endurance  they  perfcfrmed ;  how  they 
suffered,  bled,  famished,  went  in  rags,  toiled  in  heat  and  cold, 
unpaid,  half  starved,  sick,  but  defiant  to  the  last ;  and  wept 
when  great  Robert  Lee  gave  his  spotless  sword  to  victorious 
Grant.  They  fought  not  to  defend  their  wealth ;  they  had 
none.  They  fought  not  to  save  their  negroes;  they  had 
none.  They  fought  not  for  fame  or  position ;  they  cared  not 
for  these.  They  fought  for  the  South,  for  the  honor  of 
their  native  land,  and  they  have  added  to  the  greatness  of, 
the  American  name,  although  the  cause  for  which  they 
struggled  lies  dead  and  hoof-beaten  beneath  the  war-steeds 
of  the  triumphant  North. 


OR,    THE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN   HOMES.  115 

Mr.  Jasper  had  given  his  life  to  the  defence  of  his 
country,  and  the  maintenance  of  his  family  fell  upon  the 
feeble  shoulders  of  his  widow.  She  had  discharged  that 
duty  well,  and  in  November  turned  her  attention  to  spin- 
ning, weaving,  and  knitting  for  her  fatherless  children. 

She  was  spinning  before  her  fire  when  her  oldest  child, 
a  little  girl  ten  years  of  age,  ran  in,  saying — 

"Mother,  mother!  Look  out  of  the  window  at  the 
soldiers!  They  are  Yankees,  and  have  stopped  at  our 
gate." 

"May  our  Father  in  heaven  defend  us  I"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Jasper,  as  she  glanced  through  the  little  window  and 
beheld  a  formidable  troop  of  fierce-looking  and  bearded 
men  springing  to  the  ground  at  the  gate.  "  Surely,  a  poor 
woman  like  me  can  have  nothing  these  men  desire."  Yet 
her  heart  sank  as  she  noticed  two  or  three  wagons  also 
halting  before  her  home. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE      BARBAROUS      DEED. 

The  suspense  of  the  poor  widow  was  not  of  long  dura- 
tion, for  the  leader  of  the  troop,  the  brutalCaptain  Flaskill, 
foEowed  by  Seth  Cashmore  and  several  troopers,  dashed 
down  the  rickety  little  gate,  and  unceremoniously  stalked 
mto  the  room. 


116  THE   MCDONALDS; 

At  the  same  moment  reports  of  fire-arms  and  the  squeal- 
ing of  pigs  told  that  the  order  "  to  live  chiefly,  if  not  solely 
upon  the  country,"  was  being  strictly  earned  out  by  the 
troopers  scattered  over  the  premises. 

Mrs.  Jasper  recoiled  from  the  fierce  eyes  of  the  "  bum- 
mer" captain,  as  he  swaggered  into  the  house;  and  her 
children,  poor  innocents,  clustered  around  her  in  speechless 
alarm.  It  was  "  a  hard  species  of  warfare,"  but  it  was 
"to  bring  home  the  sad  realities  of  war  to  those  who  were 
directly  or  indirectly  instrumental "  in  forcing  those  stout 
men  in  blue  from  their  peaceful  Northern  homes  to  sweep 
Georgia  with  the  torch  and  the  sword. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  widow,  pale  but  firm,  "  I  and 
my  little  ones  have  never  done  you  any  harm.  I  beg  that 
you  will  not  hurt  us." 

"  Hurt  you ! "  roared  Flaskill,  with  one  of  his  huge 
oaths.  "  No,  we  won't  hurt  you.  Do  you  think  we  are 
wolves  ? " 

He  looked  so  ferocious,  and  roared  so  loud,  and  swore 
so  fiercely,  that  the  helpless  woman  might  well  have 
thought  him  a  wolf,  or  a  tiger,  or  a  bear ;  but  she  replied 
meekly : 

"  No,  sir,  not  that,  but  we  have  seen  so  much  trouble 
that  we  are  afraid  of  everybody.  I  am  alone  with  my 
fatherless  children — " 

"  Fatherless  ?  How  came  they  fatherless  ?  Was  there 
dad  a  'reb,'  or  did  he  die  before  the  war  began?"  de- 
manded Tom  Flaskill. 


OR,    THE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN   HOMES.  117 

"  He  died  in  battle,  before  Atlanta — " 

"  Ho !  then  he  was  a  rebel  ?  Well,  he  was  lucky,  for 
after  we  get  the '  reb  '  army  under,  we  intend  to  hang  every 
mother's  son  of  'em." 

"  Your  men  are  killing  all  my  pigs  and  poultry.  We 
will  starve — " 

"  Starve  then,"  was  the  atrocious  reply.  "  We  have 
orders  to  live  off  the  country.     I  saw  a  fine  cow — " 

"  Please  don't  kill  or  carry  ofi*  our  cow,"  said  the  eldest 
little  girl,  as  she  boldly  placed  her  little  hands  upon  the 
arm  of  the  captain,  and  turned  her  pleading  blue  eyes  up 
to  his. 

"Bah,  you  little  she-rebel!"  growled  the  unmoved 
*  bummer,'  "  young  as  you  are,  I'll  be  bound  you  could 
mix  poison  for  a  blue-coat." 

"Oh,  no!  We  had  one  here  once — a  poor,  sick, 
escaped  prisoner  from  Atlanta,"  replied  the  little  child, 
earnestly.  "  And  we  nursed  him  until  he  could  travel,  and 
never  told  on  him,  because  he  said  his  mother  in  the  North 
was  old  and  sick,  and  we  thought  it  none  of  our  business 
to  tell  on  him.     Please  spare  us  our  cow  at  least." 

"These  rebs  can  outlie  the  dogs,"  said  the  captain, 
scornfully.  "  No,  we  must  have  the  cow,  and  all  your  hogs 
and  chickens,  so  hush !  Here,  see  those  wagons  loaded 
right  off." 

"Yes,  we  want  to  get  to  Alexander's  before  night," 
chimed  Seth   Cashmore,  who  was  closely  examining  the 


118  THE  MCDONALDS  ; 

clasps  of  a  large  family  Bible.  "  May  I  never  see  Boston 
again,  Tom,  if  the  clasp  of  tliis  book  isn't  pure  gold  !  " 

"  Do  not  mutilate  that,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Jasper  ;  "  my 
mother  gave  it  to  me  years  ago." 

"Did  she?  Well,  I  am  greatly  obliged  to  you  for 
keeping  it  until  now.  I  wonder  you  didn't  subscribe  it  to 
the  rebel  gunboat  fund,"  said  Mr.  Cashmore,  deliberately 
wrenching  the  clasp  from  the  Bible  and  thrusting  it  into 
his  pocket.  "  Who'd  thought  of  finding  gold  in  this 
hovel?" 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  the  old  she-reb  has  got  a 
stocking  full  of  half-dollars  hid  away,"  cried  a  trooper, 
whose  long  sharp  nose  seemed  to  smell  gold  in  the  air. 
"  Let's  hunt  around,  boys." 

"  Sir,"  said  Mrs.  Jasper,  in  a  tone  of  deep  despair,  and 
addressing  the  leader,  "  you  spoke  of  loading  your  wagons. 
For  Heaven's  sake,  as  you  are  a  man,  and  I  trust  a  Chris- 
tian, I  beg  you,  I  pray  you  not  to  carry  off  the  few  bush- 
els of  corn  and  wheat  which  my  own  poor  hands  have 
made.  Look  at  these  five  innocent  children,  and  be  mer- 
ciflil ! " 

"  Must  have  every  bushel — live  off  the  country — that's 
the  ticket,"  repHed  Flaskill.  "If  you  and  your  rebel 
brood  suffer,  go  curse  Jeff.  Dads  and  them  as  put  you  into 
it." 

Perceiving  that  the  leader  was  a  hard-hearted  wretch, 
incapable  of  feeling  pity,  the  disconsolate  mother  appealed 


119 


to  the  troopers,  almost  knecliug  to  them,  to  spare  at  least 
a  few  bushels  of  her  scanty  store  of  grain. 

But  she  might  as  well  have  appealed  to  the  wind. 
They  gave  her  no  heed,  unless  a  curse  or  a  scoff.  She 
stood  bare-headed  in  her  yard,  and  with  streaming  eyes  and 
sinking  heart  beheld  her  hogs  and  poultry  shot  down  by 
bearded  men  in  blue ;  saw  her  only  cow  slaughtered  and 
cut  up,  and  the  pieces  tossed  into  a  wagon ;  saw  all  her 
corn  and  wheat  ruthlessly  swept  away  and  heaped  into  the 
wagon ;  saw  her  weeping  children  clinging  to  her  poor 
homespun  dress,  their  little  hearts  terrified  by  the  scene ; 
saw  in  the  ^future  rain,  storm,  bleak  winter,  starvation 
rushing  down  upon  her  and  those  helpless  ones,  and  there 
in  her  desecrated  home,  upon  the  bare  earth,  she  knelt  and 
lifted  her  hard-worked  and  plundered  hands  to  Heaven  and 
prayed  that  a  curse,  bitter  and  scathing,  might  fall  upon 
those  who  robbed  the  widow  and  her  orphans. 

Her  keen  reproaches  and  sharp  supplications  infuriated 
the  troopers,  and  especially  their  brutal  leader.  These 
bummers  had  ransacked  the  httle  log  house,  which  contain- 
ed but  two  rooms ;  had  plundered  even  the  humble  kitchen, 
finding  even  there  something  to  tempt  their  insatiate  cupid- 
ity. True,  there  was  little  in  that  impoverished  home 
worth  the  carrying  away ;  yet  it  is  remarkable,  as  one  of 
the  salient  traits  in  the  character  of  that  grand  march 
through  Georgia,  that  the  most  trifling  and  useless  articles 
seemed  to  be  precious  spoil  to  the  "bummers."     Pots, 


J20  THE   MCDONALDS; 

pans,  kettles,  dkhclotJis,  any  and  every  thing,  were  carried 
away,  and  strewed  along  the  line  of  march. 

Thus  the  home  of  Mrs.  Jasper  was  thoroughly  ran- 
sacked, even  her  wearing  apparel  taken ;  and  then,  pur- 
posely or  by  accident,  the  house  was  fired. 

Mrs.  Jasper  was  unconscious  that  her  poor  house  was 
in  flames  until  the  cries  of  her  children  called  her  attention 
thither.  Even  then,  those  flames  could  have  been  extin- 
L;-uished  w4th  the  aid  of  the  troopers,  and  the  poor  woman 
besought  them  to  assist  her.  But  Flaskill  was  in  no  humor 
to  allow  his  men  to  help  to  save  the  home  of  a  rebel. 

"  Forward !  push  on ! "  he  shouted,  as  he  sprang  into 
Ids  saddle.     "  Let  the  rebel  roost  burn." 

The  troop  moved  away,  leaving  the  unhappy  widow 
and  her  five  little  ones  homeless,  foodless,  while  the  angry 
flames  roared  amid  the  humble  rafters,  rapidly  adding 
another  heap  to  the  ashes  of  Southern  homes. 

When  the  sun  went  down  fiery  and  red  the  darkness 
of  night  stole  on,  and  the  red  glare  of  the  embers  revealed 
the  anguish  depicted  upon  the  pale  face  of  the  houseless 
widow  as  she  knelt  amid  her  five  orphans  and  cried  bit- 
terly :  "  God  help  us !  God  help  us ! " 

The  case  of  Mrs.  Jasper  is  but  one  of  many  similar  in- 
stances in  which  "  the  sad  realities  of  war  were  brought 
home"  to  the  helpless  widows  and  orphans  of  Georgia. 
We  read  upon  page  79  of  that  oflBcial  report  the  following 
terriblv  sigriificant  words : 


OE,   THE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN   HOMES.  121 

"  Tlie  plantations  of  this  (Newton)  county  were  tlior- 
oughly  striiiped,  and  our  troops  lived  on  the  fat  of  the 
land."  "Foraging  was  carried  on  to  an  extensive  degree." 
"  A  party  from  one  of  the  brigades  of  the  twentieth  corps, 
while  out  foraging  some  distance  north  of  the  railroad,  at 
Oxford,  were  fired  upon  by  bushwhackers,  and  one  of  their 
number  was  killed." 

That  was  the  reason  why  "  here  the  order  for  relent- 
less DEVASTATION  of  the  country  was  carried  out,"  etc. 

Because  one  of  the  thousands  of  the  invaders  of  the 
land  was  struck  down  by  some  unknown  hand,  houses, 
churches,  colleges,  hovels,  and  mansions,  libraries,  etc., 
were  given  to  the  torch ;  that  great,  savage  beast  of  war, 
"  the  order  for  relentless  devastation,"  was  let  loose  in  all 
its  rary,  and  bidden  to  do  its  worst. 

Oh,  nineteenth  century,  ever  boastful  of  thy  perfection 
in  morality,  humanity,  civilization,  and  Christianity,  hang 
thy  head  to  hide  thy  blushes  of  shame,  if  not  thy  pangs 
of  remorse,  when  History  shall  impale  thy  dark  deeds  with 
her  inexorable  lance,  and  hold  up  to  the  execration  of  pos- 
terity the  "  order  for  relentless  devastation." 


6 


122 


CHAPTER  IX. 


LIVING    OFF    THE    COUXTRY. 


The  sun  was  just  disappeariug  iu  tlie  west  as  Captain 
Flaskill  and  his  troop  approached  the  residence  of  Mr. 
Alexander,  and  the  sharp  eyes  of  the  heartless  Federal 
marauder  caught  the  glint  of  steel  near  the  road-gate  of 
the  mansion,  as  he  rose  over  the  crest  of  the  hill  which 
overlooked  the  premises. 

"  Cashmore,"  said  he  to  the  speculator,  who  rode  by 
his  side,  "  some  one  is  ahead  of  us  at  the  Alexander  place, 
if  that  house  is  the  one  you  mentioned." 

"  That  is  the  house,"  replied  Cashmore,  as  he  rose  in 
his  stirrups,  and  leaned  forward.  "  There  seems  to  be  a 
guard  pacing  before  the  front  gate  there;  you  saw  his  car- 
bine shine." 

"Yes,  that  fellow  is  doubtless  on  guard,  and  there  are 
two  horses  turned  loose  in  the  stable-lot.  What  does  that 
mean  ? " 

"It  means  that  Alexander  has  prevailed  upon  some 
girl-hearted  Federal  to  give  him  a  guard." 

**  Very  little  heed  will  Tom  FlasMll  pay  to  any  guard, 
were  he  placed  by  Shei-man  himself,"  growled  the  marau- 
der, in  high  indignation.  "  But  I  suspect  this  fellow  was 
posted  by  Major  Irving.     He  was  to  push   on  to  "Walton 


OR,   THE    ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN    HOMES.  123 

County  to  burn  a  railroad  station,  or  something  of  tliat 
kind." 

"  You  are  riglit,"  replied  Cashmore.  '*  I  understand  it 
all  now.  Irving  took  a  fancy  to  those  rebels,  the  M'Don- 
alds,  in  Atlanta,  and  as  he  has  fallen  in  with  them  again,  he 
must  again  display  what  he  calls  generosity  to  the  help- 
less." 

"  Just  so,  curse  him !  "  snarled  Flaskill,  as  he  twisted  his 
red  mustache  in  huge  disdain.  "  I  owe  him  a  stab  under 
the  fifth  rib  for  that  hammering  he  treated  me  to  in  At- 
lanta— you  remember — the  flag  affair." 

"  Oh  yes,  I  shall  not  soon  forget  it,"  replied  Cashmore, 
with  an  ugly  grimace,  "nor  that  Irving  was  backed  by  one 
of  his  lieutenants — Giles,  I  think,  was  the  name  of  the  cur." 

"  True,  Giles  is  his  shadow,  and  may  I  die  in  Ander- 
sonville  if  that  fellow  pacing  the  piazza  so  stiffly  does  not 
look  like  Giles ! "  exclaimed  Flaskill,  as  he  halted  to  stare  at 
the  mansion. 

"That's  Giles,"  replied  Cashmore.  "I'd  know  his 
strut  a  mile.     What  shall  we  do  ?  " 

"  Do  ?  Do  as  I  please,"  roared  Flaskill,  dashing  on, 
Cashmore  following  closely.  "  Just  let  John  Giles  chirp 
to  me,  and  I'll  let  him  know  the  weight  of  my  fist,  the 
beggar.  He's  one  of  those  milk-blooded  hounds  that  say 
rebels  have  rights." 

"  What  nonsense  !  "  chimed  in  the  speculator  ;  who, 
having  no  courage  of  his  own,  was  glad  to  see  that  his  fero- 


124  THE  m'donalds  ; 

cious  comrade  intended  to  disregard  the  wishes  of  Major 
Irving.  "  Of  course,  rebels  have  no  rights.  Besides,  you 
have  orders  to  cripple  the  enemy  in  every  way  possible ;  to 
consume  his  grain,  carry  off  his  stock,  destroy  his  proven- 
der—" 

"  Certainly  I  have.  That's  the  plan  and  policy  of  this 
campaign.     But,  here  we  are  before  the  front  gate." 

"  Halt ! — Prepare  to  dismount ! — Dismount ! "  cried 
Flaskill  to  his  troop,  which  numbered  nearly  eighty  men, 
rough,  rude,  lawless  fellows,  the  offscourings  of  the  Federal 
army,  and  much  of  the  character  of  their  captain. 

"  Halt !  You  cannot  pass  here,"  said  the  guard  at  the 
gate,  firmly. 

"  I  cannot !  Who^  placed  you  here  ?  "  demanded  Flas- 
kill, eyeing  the  soldier  fiercely. 

"I  did,  Captain  Flaskill,  with  orders  fi-om  Major  Ir- 
ving," said  Lieutenant  Giles,  who  had  hastened  from  the 
piazza. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Major  Nancy !  "  sneered  the  marauding  cap- 
tain. 

*'  A  better  man  than  any  of  your  breed,  Tom  Flaskill," 
retorted  the  lieutenant,  who  was  a  tall,  dark-faced  man,  a 
native  of  Pennsylvania,  and  wholly  fearless  of  Flaskill  and 
his  troop  behind  him. 

"Arrest  that  man! "shouted  Flaskill,  at  once  seizing 
the  opportunity  afforded  by  the  indiscretion  of  the  hot- 
blooded  lieutenant.  "He  is  guilty  of  disrespect  to  his 
superior  oflScer.     Arrest  him ! " 


OK,    TUE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN    HOMES.  125 

Jolin  Giles  was  no  favorite  among  the  lawless  troopers 
of  Flaskill's  command,  and  many  of  them  were  indebted  to 
him  for  lonely  hours  in  the  guard-house  at  Atlanta.  A 
strict  and  severe  discipHnarian,  he  had  never  overlooked  any 
misdemeanor  which  fell  under  his  vigilant  eye,  and  Flash- 
kill's  troopers  sprang  toward  him,  hoping  he  would  resist. 
But  the  officer  saw  his  peril  at  once,  and  though  he  drew 
his  sword,  it  was  only  to  snap  the  blade  across  his  knee, 
saying : 

"  Captain  Flaskill,  this  is  all  paltry  and  cowardly  sub- 
terfuge. You  did  not  intend  to  heed  the  guard  placed  by 
Major  Irving.  AiTest  me,  then  ;  but  you  will  have  to  an- 
swer for  the  act  to  your  superiors  in  rank,  and  afterward 
to  me." 

"  I  am  able  to  paddle  my  canoe  in  any  puddle  you  or 
Irving  can  make,"  was  the  coarse  reply.  "  I  command 
here,  sir.  There  are  your  horses,  and  I  advise  you  and 
that  fellow  with  the  carbine  to  mount  and  leave." 

"Duck  him,  cap  !  Ride  him  on  a  rail!"  yelled  the 
troopers.     "  He's  half  a  rebel  himself." 

The  disturbance  at  the  gate  had  attracted  the  attention 
of  Mr.  Alexander  and  his  family,  and  all  had  hurried  from 
the  house  to  the  piazza. 

A  shudder  of  alarm  thrilled  Mrs.  M'Donald's  blood  as 
she  recognized  the  harsh  voice  of  Captain  Flaskill  louder 
than  all ;  but  she  felt  her  heart  sink  with  dismay  as  old 
Myra  came  running  from  the  front  gate,  saying : 


126  THE  MCDONALDS  ; 

"  Missus,  pray  to  de  Lor'  to  sabe  us !  dat  Seflf  Cashmere 
is  wid  'em,  and  got  on  an  officer's  coat." 

"  Setli  Cashmore !  Then  we  are  to  be  insulted  and  ill- 
treated." 

"  Run,  missus !  an'  young  missus  too,"  urged  old  Myra. 
"  Dar's  time  if  you  move  quick — ^go  troo  the  back  lot,  an' 
take  to  de  woods." 

''I  agree  with  your  servant,"  said  Mr.  Alexander, 
anxiously.  ''  Cashmore  has  the  power  and  the  baseness  to 
do  any  thing." 

The  shouting  around  Lieutenant  Giles  had  become  very 
loud,  and  terrified  the  ladies  greatly.  Mrs.  M'Donald  reso- 
lutely refused  to  retreat  to  the  shelter  of  the  woods,  but  in- 
sisted upon  the  instant  flight  of  her  daughter,  whose  peril, 
she  urged,  was  much  greater  than  hers. 

"  I  will  not  move  one  inch  without  you,  mother,"  re- 
plied Myrtis,  firmly.  "  I  would  die  a  thousand  deaths  in 
those  dark  woods,  imagining  yon  in  peril" 

"  Then  T  will  go  with  you,"  said  her  mother,  bursting 
into  tears.  "  God  knows  I  never  have  turned  my  back  in 
flight  till  now,  and  that  I  would  not  now,  but  for  your 
sake.  I  know  that  wretch  Cashmore  is  capable  of  any 
villany." 

"  Go,  den  !  go ! "  cried  Myra.  "  I'll  stay  to  gib  you 
all  de  time  I  can.  Leab  me  to  fool  Seff"  an'  de  blue  locnsses. 
Dar,  now !  go  !  Rite  troo  de  garden,  ober  de  fence  into  de 
field,  den  inter  de  pine  thicket — don't  hide  in  dat  cane- 
brake — dey  sure  to  look  dar — truss  in  de  Lord ! " 


OR,   THE  ASHES   OF   SOUTIIEEN   HOMES.  127 

The  McDonalds  had  no  time  to  spare  in  securing  more 
clothing,  but  hurried  through  the  house  into  the  garden, 
and  were  in  the  field  beyond  when  Flaskill  called  out  to 
his  men  : 

"  Dowu  with  the  fence !     We  need  wagon  room  here." 

The  powerful  hands  of  fourscore  men,  surging  simul- 
taneously at  the  front-yard  fence,  instantly  prostrated  it  to 
the  ground.  It  went  down  with  a  crash,  and  struck  the 
earth  with  a  heavy  thud,  which  reached  the  ears  of  the 
fugitive  ladies. 

Lieutenant  Giles  and  his  companion,  perceiving  that 
their  presence  afforded  no  protection  to  the  premises,  and 
rightly  judging  that  Flaskill  would  delight  in  increased 
brutality  if  they  remained  to  see  it,  mounted  their  horses 
and  galloped  away. 

"  Men  hke  these,  and  deeds  like  these,"  thought  the 
insulted  heutenant,  "  disgrace  the  Union  cause,  and  serve" 
only  to  fui-ther  embitter  that  sectional  hatred  from  which 
sprang  this  disgraceful  and  fratricidal  war.     Go  on,  Tom 
Flaskill ;  you  will  have  to  answer  to  me  for  this  outrage." 

"  Drive  in  the  empty  wagons,"  commanded  Flaskill. 
"  Down  with  that  fence  on  the  left,  and  drive  the  teams  to 
the  corn-cribs  and  wheat-houses !  Kill  all  the  stock  that 
is  not  fit  to  take  with  us." 

"  It's  getting  very  dark,"  said  a  teamster,  as  he  drove 
his  broad-wheeled  wagon  into  the  flower-garden,  crushing 
and  destroying  rare  and  costly  plants,  once  the  pride  and 
delight  of  Mrs.  Alexander  and  her  absent  daughter. 


128  THE   MCDONALDS  ; 

"Dark!  You  want  light,"  said  Cashmore,  with  his 
evil  leer  of  malice.  "  Yonder  is  the  gin-house,  and  there 
is  a  shed  crammed  with  cotton.  No  doubt  this  old  rebel 
has  subscribed  it  to  the  rebel  cotton  loan." 

"  No  matter  whether  he  has  or  not,"  exclaimed  Flasldll, 
his  destructive  propensity  at  once  aroused.  "  We  need 
light.     Go  set  fire  to  the  gin-house  and  the  cotton." 

Tliree  or  four  troopers  at  once  sprang  forward  to  obey 
a  command  so  perfectly  in  unison  with  their  instincts, 
while  Flasldll,  followed  by  Cashmore  and  others,  advanced 
to  the  piazza. 

Mr.  Alexander  met  them  with  heroic  fiimness  as  they 
swaggered  up  the  steps. 

"  You  have  made  yourselves  at  home,  gentlemen,"  said 
he,  in  a  tone  of  insulted  dignity,  *'  therefore  no  welcome 
from  me  is  necessary." 

"  None  in  the  world,  my  bully  old  rebel,"  rephed 
Flaskill,  insolently  knocking  off  the  hat  of  the  old  gentle- 
man. "  Cashmore,  I  have  never  met  one  of  those  old 
white-bearded  traitors  that  didn't  try  to  play  the  Roman 
senator,  curse  'em  ! " 

"  That's  so,"  chimed  in  the  speculator,  whose  balefiil, 
frog-like  eyes  were  rolling  about  in  eager  search  of  the 
M'Donalds.  "  They  all  think  themselves  a  race  of  kings 
— you  see,  they  are  cotton  kings." 

"  I  and  all  that  I  have  is  in  your  power,"  continued 
Mr.  Alexander,  as  his  wife  picked  up  his  hat  and  laid  it 
aside.     "  I  can  make  no  resistance — " 


OE,   THE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN   HOMES.  129 

"  Suppose  you  could,  old  man ;  suppose  you  could," 
cried  Flaskill,  briskly,  and  seeking  provocation.  "  Would 
you  resist,  eh  ?  would  you  show  your  rebel  teeth  ? " 

But  the  old  planter  was  as  wary  and  prudent  as  he  was 
courageous.     He  saw  the  trap,  and  avoided  it. 

"  I  never  suppose  impossibilities — it  would  be  folly  for 
a  man  of  my  age  to  do  so,"  he  repHed,  quietly ;  though  his 
hot  Georgian  blood  boiled  in  his  old  shrivelled  veins,  and 
fire  flashed  in  his  steady  eyes.  "  You  come  as  victors,  and 
the  glory  of  the  victor  is  in  being  ever  mercifal  to  the 
vanquished." 

"  Here  are  the  keys  of  the  house,  and  of  all  our  trunks," 
said  meek  and  resigned  Mrs.  Alexander,  extending  several 
bunches  of  keys  to  the  captain. 

"  Keys !  "  snarled  the  marauder,  dashing  them  from  the 
hand  of  the  lady  with  a  fierce  gesture  of  savage  scorn,  "  I 
carry  my  keys  to  all  rebel  locks  here." 

He  clapped  his  hairy  hand  upon  the  hilt  of  his  sabre, 
and  then  slapped  the  holster  of  his  revolver,  enforcing 
these  ferocious  gestures  with  an  oath. 

The  hand  which  had  so  gently  and  beseechingly  ex- 
tended to  him  the  keys  was  the  hand  of  a  woman  ;  a  pale, 
thin,  time-withered,  and  trembling  hand;  the  delicate, 
finely-shaped  hand  of  an  aged  Southern  matron,  almost  old 
enough  to  have  been  his  mother's  mother ;  the  hand  of  a 
lady,  aged,  feeble,  decrepit :  but  with  a  single  fierce  sweep 
of  his  heavy  fist  he  dashed  the  keys  to  the  floor. 


130  THE   MCDONALDS  ; 

What  cared  Captain  Jom  Flaskill,  "  bummer  "  captain 
of  the  Federal  host,  for  a  lady's  soft  palm?  Nothing. 
Plunder,  rapine,  violence,  were  as  the  breath  of  his  tiger- 
like  nostrils. 

The  rejected  keys  fell  upon  the  floor  of  the  piazza  with 
a  harsh  clang,  and  the  aged  matron  stooped  to  pick  them 
up,  saying: 

"  There  is  little  need  to  be  so  rude,  my  son ! " 

My  son  !  The  gentle  term  should  have  melted  his  bra- 
zen heart,  if  not  to  pity,  at  least  to  respect.  But  obdurate 
ever,  and  eagerly  seeking  a  provocation  to  harsher  conduct, 
the  red-whiskered  pandour  of  the  North  raised  his  heavy 
boot,  and  kicked  the  keys  from  the  piazza,  saying,  with  an 
oath : 

"  There,  let  them  go.  You'll  have  little  need  of  keys 
or  locks  when  we  leave." 

"  As  God  wills,  so  it  shall  ever  be,"  replied  the  aged 
lady,  rising  from  her  stooping  posture,  and  calmly  placing 
her  hands  upon  her  husband's  arm. 

The  words  of  the  marauder  had  warned  her  that  her 
property  was  to  be  destroyed,  and  the  red  glare  of  the  de- 
vouring flames,  which  wrapped  the  gin-house  in  a  fiery 
mantle,  told  her  that  the  torch  was  to  wreak  its  rage  upon 
her  premises.  At  once  her  heart  cast  off  all  thought  of 
perishing  wealth,  and  sprang  to  guard  her  husband.  She 
knew  him  well ;  knew  that  he  was  wary  and  cautious,  pm- 
dent  and  calm,  but  she  knew  that  a^e  had  not  cooled  the 


OR,    THE   ASHES   OF    SOUTHERN    HOMES.  131 

hot  Alexander  blood  from  which  he  sprang ;  knew  that 
though  a  thousand  stinging  insults,  a  thousand  coarse 
affronts  levelled  against  himself  might  be  met  by  a  scorn- 
ful yet  prudent  disdain,  Jerome  Alexander  could  not  bear 
to  see  his  wife  insulted. 

As  she  placed  her  thin  and  aged  hands  upon  his  ami, 
she  felt  the  tough  muscles  of  the  old  planter  swelling  be- 
neath her  touch,  and  a  glance  at  his  face  told  her  that  the 
flames  of  the  burning  gin-house  were  not  hotter  than  the 
passion  which  sparkled  in  his  eyes. 

"  My  husband  !  Jerome  !  Say  nothing,  I  pray  you. 
Let  them  work  their  will." 

The  old  planter  bit  his  lip,  and  a  tear  stole  into  his 
eye,  a  tear  of  agony,  for  like  all  of  his  race  and  land  he 
was  brave  and  sensitive.  But  he  restrained  himself  from 
smiting  the  mouth  of  the  marauder  with  his  staff,  and, 
clinchmg  his  powerless  hands,  said  not  a  word. 

At  this  moment  Seth  Cashmore  espied  old  Myra  stand- 
ing near  the  hall. 

"  Ho !  you  are  there,  are  you,  black  owl  ? "  said  Seth. 
"  You  see  I  am  a  true  bloodhound  on  the  M'Donald  track. 
Where  are  they  ?  " 

"  Ki !  If  youze  de  bloodhound  on  de  track,  you  orter 
know  where  de  ladies  is,"  replied  Myra,  in  no  wise  daunted 
by  his  great  black  whiskers,  hooked  nose,  and  staring  eyes. 

"They  are  hiding,  are  they ? " 

"  You  wait  twill  dey  comes  dowMi-stars,"  said  Myra 


132  THE   MCDONALDS  ; 

"  Reckon  dey  ain't  half  so  anxious  to  see  you  as  you  is  to 
see  dem.     What  you  want  wid  my  missuses  ?" 

"  You  go  and  tell  them  to  come  down  and  exchange 
compliments  with  me,"  said  Cashmore,  in  high  glee,  and 
supposing  that  his  persecuted  victims  were  in  the  house. 

"  Wait  twill  I  tell  dem,"  replied  the  old  negress,  hurry- 
ing away. 

"  And  now  old  man,"  said  Flaskill,  we  will  look  into 
your  private  property.     Got  any  gold,  or  silver,  or  plate  ? " 

^'  I  see  that  your  wagons  are  being  loaded  with  what 
little  corn,  wheat,  and  oats  I  have,"  replied  the  old  planter. 
"  Do  you  intend  to  take  all  ? " 

"  Every  grain,  by  George,"  swore  the  marauder. 

"  Captain,"  said  Mr.  Alexander,  "  you  are  not  merely 
depri-sang  me  and  my  family,  both  black  and  white,  of  our 
food  for  the  winter.  There  are  many  perishing  families, 
deprived  by  the  war  of  their  male  supporters,  almost  en- 
tirely dependent  upon  me  for  daily  food." 

*'  So  much  the.  better,  my  old  rebel  We  are  now 
winding  up  the  war.  We  are  going  to  starve  you  out. 
Those  rebel  rascals  in  the  army  will  never  lay  down  their 
arms  while  you  and  other  stay-at-home  rebels  raise  corn 
and  wheat.  We  are  on  the  right  track  now ;  we  intend  to 
strike  at  the  women  and  children;  we  mean  to  win  the 
fight  if  we  have  to  exterminate  every  Southern  man,  wo- 
man, and  child.  But  yon  havfi  not  answered  my  question. 
Have  you  any  specie  ? " 


OE,   THE    ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN   HOMES.  133 

Mr.  Alexander  was  a  strictly  conscientious  man,  and 
paused  before  he  replied.  He  had  no  specie  of  his  own, 
but  his  son-in-law  had  confided  to  his  care  some  three 
thousand  dollars  in  gold,  before  he  went  to  war.  It  was  a 
sacred  deposit,  to  be  reserved  for  the  support  of  his  daugh- 
ter, should  her  husband  fall.  For  a  moment  Mr.  Alexander 
hesitated,  but  he  soon  replied  : 

"  My  gold  and  silver  I  spent  long  ago,  sir.  I  have 
none.  There  are  a  few  silver  spoons  and  some  few  articles 
of  plate  in  the  house,  but  surely  you  are  not  marauders  ? " 

"  Silver  spoons ! "  cried  Seth  Cashmore,  "  that  is  fair 
game.     Where  are  they  ? " 

"  Hold !  "  cried  Flaskill,  grasping  his  friend  by  the  col- 
lar. "  You  have  a  way  of  grabbing  every  thing  before  a 
man  can  wink.  We  share  alike  in  all  these  rebel  pick- 
ings." 

"  Of  com'se,  of  course  !  "  said  Cashmore.  "  I  believe  in 
the  fair  thing  every  time." 

"  Then  we'll  hunt  together,"  replied  Flaskill,  as  both 
entered  the  house,  followed  by  several  of  the  troop. 

"  My  dear  husband,  bear  up,"  said  Mrs.  Alexander,  as 
they  stood  alone  upon  the  piazza,  the  old  planter  gazing 
sternly  upon  his  burning  property. 

"  It  is  hard  to  see  the  reward  of  years  of  labor  thus 
swept  away,"  replied  Mr.  Alexander  in  a  firm  tone,  though 
a  tear  gleamed  in  his  eye.  "  I  am  an  old  and  feeble  man, 
Eunice,  and  have  never  harmed  these  men.     Yet,  I  do  not 


134  THE  m'donalds; 

grieve  so  much  over  the  loss  of  my  mdividual  property  as 
I  do  over  the  future  of  my  country.  This  march  has  but 
commenced,  yet  what  woe  and  havoc  has  aheady  been  in- 
flicted !  Think  how  vast  will  be  the  ruin  by  the  time  this 
immense  army  shall  have  reached  the  sea !  My  poor  neigh- 
bors !  What  a  winter  is  before  the  widows  and  children 
of  the  Confederate  dead  !  This  is  war ;  this  is  the  boasted 
civilization  of  our  race." 

"  Jerome,"  said  his  wife,  "  had  you  not  better  go  away  ? 
I  fear  that  the  captain  of  these  men  suspects  that  you  know 
something  of  the  gold  of  our  daughter's  husband." 

"  And  why  ?     How  could  he  suspect,"  asked  Mr.  Alex- 
ander, quickly. 

"  I  do  not  know ;  but  when  you  said  that  you  had  no 
specie,  he  winked  at  that  man  Cashmore." 

"  Let  him  suspect,"  replied  Mr.  Alexander,  sternly.  "  He 
cannot  force  the  secret  from  me.  I  have  heard  that  men 
in  the  uniform  of  the  Federal  army  have  actually  tortured 
men  and  women  of  the  South.  It  is  honible  to  reflect 
that  white  men,  civilized  men,  citizens  of  a  great  and  en- 
lightened nation,  should  so  far  retrograde  into  barbarism 
as  to  torture  their  fellow-creatures.  The  savage,  whose 
ignorance  may  palliate  his  ferocity,  tortures  for  revenge,  or 
because  it  is  the  century-clad  custom  of  his  ancestors ;  but 
the  white  man — the  Federal — tortures  for  gold !  We  can 
but  place  ourselves  in  the  hands  of  God." 

The  aged  pair  remained  silent ;  the  soldiers  began  to 


OR,   THE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHEEN   HOMES.  135 

pass  near  them,  leaving  the  house  with  loads  of  plunder 
upon  their  shoulders. 

The  scene  was  one  of  peculiar  terror  and  excitement. 
The  premises  of  the  helpless  planter  were  brilliantly  illumi- 
nated by  the  flames  of  the  blazing  cotton  and  gin-house ; 
and  as  the  troopers  had  found  a  much  larger  supply  of  fod- 
der than  their  wagons  could  haul  away,  the  torch  was 
applied  to  that  also. 

"  The  order  for  relentless  devastation  was  strictly  car- 
ried out ! " 

Many  troopers  held  high  revel  in  hunting  out  and 
shooting  down  the  hogs  and  poultry.  The  four  mules  of 
the  planter,  all  that  had  been  spared  to  him  by  the  war, 
were  led  into  the  front  yard,  and  being  found  unserviceable 
for  military  use,  were  shot — a  useless  deed  of  barbarity, 
but  the  policy  of  the  march  was  to  "  consume  and  de- 
stroy," and  to  leave  the  country  "  stripped "  of  every  re- 
source of  recuperation. 

Mr.  Alexander  knew  that  he  was  not  alone  in  this  ca- 
lamitous hour,  for  the  horizon,  on  every  side,  was  red  with 
the  flames  of  burning  farms.  North,  south,  east,  and 
west,  in  whatsoever  direction  he  turned  his  eyes,  he  beheld 
that  lurid,  ominous  glare  which  told  him  that  the  torch  of 
the  invader  was  fiercely  at  work.  The  carnival  of  unifonued 
incendiaries  was  in  full  blast,  and  as  it  roared  and  raged  in 
Newton  County,  so  it  was  fiendishly  jubilant  in  other 
counties;  so  it    continued   even    to  the  sea,  and   there. 


136  THE  m'donalds  ; 

changing  its  course,  afterward  made  red  and  murky  the 
skies  of  ravaged  South  Carolina. 

Blazing  Southern  homes  by  scores,  by  hundreds,  fell  a 
sacrifice  to  the  policy  of  "relentless  devastation."  The 
sword,  the  bayonet,  the  cannon  and  the  shell  had  failed  to 
end  the  determined  resistance  of  the  South ;  therefore  the 
torch  must  reduce  to  ashes  the  homes  of  these  invincible 
"  men  in  gray." 

Well  might  Mr.  Alexander  exclaim,  as  he  gazed  upon 
the  reddened  skies : 

"  This  is  not  war ;  it  is  extermination  ! " 

But  his  reflections  were  cut  short  by  a  pistol-shot,  and 
a  shrill  cry  of  agony  from  old  Myra,  and  without  hesitation 
he  and  his  wife  hastened  into  the  house. 


CHAPTER  X. 


HUMAN       HYENAS 


Mr.  Seth  Cashmore  and  his  bosom  friend,  the  vahant 
Captain  Flaskill,  having  provided  themselves  with  lights, 
thoroughly  searched  all  the  lower  rooms  of  the  mansion, 
and  appropriated  such  valuables  as  they  could  find,  until 
their  pockets  were  well  crammed  with  silver  spoons,  forks, 
cups,  mugs,  candle-snuflfers,  and  every  article,  even  to  a 


OR,   THE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN   HOMES.  137 

baby's  rattle,  wliicli  so  much  as  smelled  of  gold  or 
silver.  ^ 

Mr.  Cashmore  and  his  friends,  much  irritated  in  not 
finding  more  of  the  precious  metals,  vented  their  heroic 
rage  by  smashing  china  and  glassware,  dashing  mirrors 
and  crockery  to  atoms,  and  stamping  upon  the  fragments. 
Jars  of  jellies  and  sweetmeats  were  carried  to  the  wagons 
or  thrown  upon  the  floor.  Dried  and  preserved  meats, 
pickles,  and  the  like  were  fair  spoils,  and  conveyed  away. 

Mr.  Cashmore  first  entered  the  parlor,  which  was  a 
mere  wreck  of  what  it  once  had  been,  and  was  surprised  to 
find  old  Myra  in  the  act  of  taking  down  a  portrait. 

"  Hey,  you  wench,  what  are  you  doing  with  that  pic- 
ture ?  Who  is  it  ? "  yelled  Cashmore,  advancing  his  torch 
of  resinous  pine.  "  What !  Hardeman  M'Donald  again  ? 
So  you  carried  that  from  Atlanta  !  '' 

Flaskill,  entering  at  the  moment,  instantly  recognized 
the  portrait,  and  cried  out : 

"  That  old  rebel  again  !  Well,  I'll  spoil  his  beauty  this 
time." 

With  these  words,  he  drew  his  pistol  and  discharged  it 
into  the  face  of  the  portrait.  The  ball  passed  through  the 
painted  canvas  and  cut  off"  a  finger  from  the  hand  of  the 
faithfal  old  negress  who  had  endeavored  to  preserve  this 
memento  of  her  beloved  master. 

The  pain  of  the  wound  caused  Myra  to  shriek,  and  let 
fiill  the  portrait.     No  sooner  was  it  upon  the  floor,  than 


138  THE  MCDONALDS; 

Cashraore  set  his  heavy  foot  upon  it,  and,  spinning  round 
upon  his  iron-shod  heel,  defaced  it  forever. 

"  Now,  then,  if  there's  much  beauty  left  in  the  face  of 
the  proud  old  tiger  who  once  called  me  a  cut-pui*se  knave, 
you  are  welcome  to  it,"  snarled  the  speculator,  while  his 
ugly  features  flamed  with  rage.  "  I'd  feel  a  gi-eat  deal 
better,  I  would,"  he  continued,  stamping  his  heels  upon 
the  portrait  with  devilish  malice  flaring  in  his  great  eyes, 
"  if  it  was  the  real  face  of  Hardeman  M'Donald ;  but  I 
ain't  done  with  the  breed  yet.  Where  are  they  ?  "Where 
is  the  proud  old  woman  who  ordered  me  from  her  house 
as  if  I  were  a  cur  ?  And  where  is  that  dainty  daughter  of 
hers  ?  Come,  I  have  waited  long  enough  for  them  to  w^el- 
come  my  arrival.  Where  are  they  ?  Answer,  you  black 
owl,  or  I'll  take  more  than  a  claw  from  your  monkey  car- 
cass." 

Old  Myra,  intent  upon  sa\dng  the  portrait,  mutilated 
though  it  was,  snatched  it  from  the  floor  as  Cashmore 
stepped  aside,  and  darted  from  the  room. 

Cashmore  was  about  to  pursue,  when  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Alexander  entered  the  apartment,  and  he  turned  his  atten- 
tion to  them. 

"  Here,  you  hoary-headed  rebel,"  said  he,  grasping  the 
old  planter's  collar,  "  I  begin  to  suspect  that  the  McDonalds 
are  not  in  the  house." 

"The  M'Donalds?  Have  you  been  up-stairs,"  quietly 
replied  the  old  man. 


OR,    THE   ASHES    OF   SOUTHERN    HOMES.  139 

*'  No,  but  some  of  the  soldiers  have,  and  they  say  there 
is  not  a  soul  up  there.  But  let  me  see  for  myself,"  roared 
Cashmore,  hurrying  away. 

"  I  heard  the  report  of  a  pistol,  a  scream  of  pain,  cap- 
tain, and  I  see  blood  upon  the  floor,"  remarked  Mr.  Alex- 
ander to  Flaskill,  who  was  examining  a  silver-handled  pa- 
per-cutter. "  I  hope  no  violence  has  been  done.  We  are 
anxious  to  avoid  all  cause  for  violence." 

"  Keep  your  tongue  to  talk  for  your  own  hide,"  replied 
Flaskill,  as  he  wrenched  the  handle  from  the  paper-cutter. 
"  Here,  two  of  you  keep  your  eyes  upon  this  man  and  wo- 
man. I'll  have  something  to  say  to  you  both  pretty  soon. 
I  guess  we  might  as  well  begin  now,"  he  continued,  glan- 
cing around  at  the  dark  and  eager  faces  of  his  comrades. 
"  Call  Cashmore,  some  of  you,  he  knows  all  about  the 
matter." 

The  old  planter  and  his  wife  exchanged  glances  of 
alarm ;  but  though  Mr.  Alexander  grew  very  pale,  his  eye 
remained  firm  and  his  features  steady.  His  feeble  wife 
placed  her  hand  within  his,  and  addressed  the  ma- 
rauder. 

'*  Captain,  you  cannot  mean  to  harm  two  old  people 
like  us.  Look  at  us.  We  are  both  old  and  feeble.  Surely, 
you  do  not  mean  to  hurt  us.  And  you,  soldiers  of  a  great 
and  victorious  people,  you  will  not  injure  us  ? " 

"  That  is  as  it  may  be,"  replied  Flaskill,  morosely. 
"  You  have  lied,  at  least  your  husband  has — but  here  comes 


140  THE   MCDONALDS; 

one  who  can  surprise  you,"  he  said,  as  Caslimore  entered, 
savage  at  not  finding  his  intended  victims. 

"  Captain,"  he  cried,  "  they  are  not  in  the  house — 
they  cannot  be  far  oflf,  for  I  know  that  I  saw  both  of  them 
standing  on  the  piazza  when  we  halted,  or  just  after." 

"  Veiy  well,"  replied  Flaskill,  quickly.  "  Sergeant 
Clarke,  take  a  few  men  and  scour  the  premises  everywhere, 
and  all  about  the  neighborhood.  Pick  up  a  nigger  or  two, 
and  make  them  guide  you  to  all  the  hiding-places  here- 
abouts. If  they  refuse,  shoot  'em  down.  Two  rebel  women, 
dressed  in  black,  named  M'Donald — they  must  be  near." 

The  sergeant  hastened  away,  and  Flaskill  continued  : 

"  Now,  Cashmore,  tell  this  old  rebel  what  you  know,  so 
that  he  may  see  his  position." 

"Jerome  Alexander,"  said  Cashmore,  in  a  bullying 
tone,  as  he  extended  and  shook  his  fist  in  the  face  of  the 
old  man,  "  I  saw  your  son-in-law  in  1861,  in  Atlanta,  place 
in  your  hands  three  thousand  dollars  in  gold.  I  know  the 
exact  amount,  for  I  saw  and  heard  him  count  it  out  to  you 
upon  a  table  in  a  room  of  the  Trout  House  in  Atlanta.  My 
room  adjoined  the  one  in  which  you  and  he  were ;  and  the 
table  upon  which  the  money  was  counted  was  against  the 
door  leading  from  that  room  into  mine.  I  looked  through 
the  keyhole — not  two  feet  from  the  gold — it  was  in  half 
and  whole  eagles.     Do  you  deny  it?" 

"  Go  on,  sir,"  replied  the  planter  in  a  resolute  voice, 
while  his  firm  lip  seemed  to  grow  hard  and  white. 


OR,   THE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN    HOMES.  14:1 

"You  placed  tlic  gold  in  a  tin  canister, -and  over  tliat  a 
bag  of  coarse  clotli,"  continued  Caslimorc.     "  Your  son-in- 
law  used  these  words— I  noted  them  down  at  the  time," 
said  Cashmore,  producing  a  note-book,  and  reading  from 
it :     " '  Keep  this  money  until  after  the  war,  father.     I  may 
die  ;  and  my  wife  must  not  be  destitute.     The  South  will 
be  impoverished,  even  if  she  gains  her  independence.    Keep 
the  gold  for  my  wife.     I  know  you  will.     Do  not  invest  it 
in  any  thing,  nor  place  it  in  bank,  but  hide  it,  bury  it,  keep 
its  existence  secret,  except  from  my  wife  and  her  mother.'  " 
"Well?"  remarked  Mr.  Alexander,  as  the  speculator 
paused,  and  replaced  his  note-book. 

"Well!  I  say  well,"  cried  Flaskill,  fired  by  the  calm- 
ness of  the  planter.  "  This  is  likely  to  be  any  thing  but 
well  for  you,  my  stubborn  rebel,  unless  you  hand  over  the 
gold.  Three  thousand  dollars  in  gold!  Come,  that  is 
worth  hunting  for." 

"Then  why  don't  you  hunt,  sir?"  retorted  the  brave 

old  man. 

"You will  not  give  it  up, then!"  roared  Flaskill,  grasp- 
ing his  pistol  and  thrusting  its  muzzle  into  the  old  man's 

face. 

"  It  is  not  mine  to  give,  sir.  You  need  not  attempt  to 
scare  me  by  putting  your  pistol  in  my  face.  I  looked  at 
British  bayonets  and  Indian  rifles  years  before  you  were 
bom.  I  did  not  flinch  then,  sir,  and  I  shall  not  flinch 
now,"  calmly  replied  Mr.  Alexander. 


142 


"  Tie  his  bands  behind  him  !"  yelled  Flaskill.  "  PuU 
his  wife  away,  and  if  she  don't  keep  quiet,  tie  her  too." 

Mrs.  Alexander  had  thrown  her  arras  around  the  neck 
of  her  husband  when  the  brutal  order  to  bind  him  wa3 
given,  but  he  quietly  released  himself  from  her  embrace, 
saying : 

"  Eunice,  let  me  bear  every  indignity  they  may  inflict, 
rather  than  see  you  insulted.  Here,  Federal  soldiers,  bind 
these  feeble  old  hands — they  might  hurt  some  of  you." 

Neither  his  age  nor  his  sarcasm  had  any  effect  upon 
those  lawless  men.  They  seized  him  and  tied  his  withered 
hands  behind  him  with  a  strong  cord. 

Does  the  reader  imagine  this  all  fiction  ?  Should  he  be 
so  wofuUy  ignorant  of  the  warfare  waged  in  Georgia  in 
1864,  and  again  in  1865,  in  another  grand  march,  we  will 
inform  him  that  similar  and  more  atrocious  scenes  were  so 
common  then,  that  no  man  could  narrate  one  before  his 
hearer  would  match  it  with  another,  and  another,  until  the 
names  of  scores  of  hundreds  of  victims  had  been  men- 
tioned— well-known  names,  revered  and  beloved  names  of 
Georgia — Holts,  Harveys,  Warners,  Carters,  Leonards, 
Howards,  Carekers,  Husseys — but  a  volume  could  be  filled 
with  the  names  of  those  who  were  maltreated,  buffeted, 
bound,  hanged,  tortured,  and  outraged  by  "men  in  blue" 
in  search  for  hidden  gold. 

In  the  gi'eat  majority  of  cases  there  was  no  hidden  hoard, 
but  stimulated  by  the  belief  that  every  old  white-headed 


OE,   THE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN   HOMES.  143 

farmer  had  buried  treasure,  the  invaders  hesitated  at  no 
violence  in  endeavoring  to  extort  the  supposed  secret.  It 
is  a  sad  commentary  upon  the  hcense  of  military  rule,  and 
also  upon  the  vaunted  civilization  of  the  soldiers  who  per- 
petrated these  deeds,  when  it  is  stated  that  white  men  of  the 
nineteenth  century  acted  the  part  of  torturing  savages,  and 
obtained  their  protection  and  right  to  plunder,  burn,  tor- 
ture, and  hang  a  helpless  population,  from  that  order 
which  our  quoted  staflf-officer  styles  "  the  order  for  relent- 
less devastation." 

If  the  Southern  people  were  rebels,  had  they  been 
Sepoys,  or  Ladrones,  or  Camanches,  they  were  human 
beings  at  least ;  but  they  were  human  beings  of  the  highest 
and  most  refined  order ;  they  had  at  least  the  rights  of 
brutes,  the  right  to  be  protected  from  torture,  the  right  to 
live.  If  their  stout  men  were  in  the  army,  in  open  rebel- 
lion, the  fact  gave  no  right  to  the  invader  to  treat  their  old 
men,  their  women  and  children  like  vermin.  But  the 
Southern  people  were  so  treated,  and  the  fact  remains,  to 
sully  forever  every  laurel  won  by  the  victors,  to  steep  it 
in  blood  and  ashes,  to  scent  it  with  the  smoke  of  burn- 
ing homes,  to  cluster  around  it  the  memories  of  starving 
widows,  famishing  orphans,  and  the  groans  of  white-haired, 
tottering  old  men,  made  beggars  and  outcasts,  until  the 
generous  bosom  of  the  weeping  South  gathered  them  in 
from  the  storms  into  which  they  were  mercilessly  hurled. 

"  Now  do  you  deny  that  you  received  the  three  thou- 
sand dollars  ?  "  demanded  Flaskill. 


144  THE  MCDONALDS  ; 

"  You  have  no  riglit  to  ask  mc  the  qucfition.  Therefore 
I  refuse  to  reply." 

"  You  refuse !  Very  well.  But  unless  you  tell  nie 
where  you  have  hidden  the  money,  I  will  burn  down  your 
house.  But  perhaps  your  wife  knows  something  of  the 
matter,"  said  Flaskill. 

"  I  do  not  know  where  the  gold  is,  sir ;  but  if  I  did,  I 
would  not  tell  you,"  replied  the  old  lady. 

"  You  wouldn't,  you  rebel !  "  cried  Flaskill,  imtated  by 
such  firmness,  and  smiting  that  pale  and  withered  cheek 
with  his  open  hand. 

*' Ruffian!  coward!  to  strike  a  woman — an  old  wo- 
man !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Alexander,  hoarse  with  passion. 
"  You  did  well,  scoundrel  dog,  to  bind  my  hands,  or,  weak 
and  old  as  I  am,  I  would  tear  your  throat !  We  are  in 
your  power.  Do  your  worst  with  me ;  I  am  a  man,  but 
let  my  wife  alone.  Wretch,  a  righteous  God  will  be  my 
avenger ! " 

"  Lead  him  into  the  yard,"  commanded  Flaskill,  *'  and 
if  he  does  not  tell  where  the  gold  is  within  five  minutes, 
set  fire  to  his  house." 

The  old  man  was  dragged  violently  from  his  house, 
shoved  down  the  steps  of  the  piazza,  and  hustled  into  the 
middle  of  the  front  yard  amid  the  hootings,  curses,  and 
jeers  of  the  troop  of  "  bummers." 

Still  his  courage  and  fortitude  never  forsook  him,  and 
his  steady  eyes  flashed  defiance  upon  his  abusers. 


145 


"  He's  game,"  whispered  Cashmore  to  Flaskill.  "  You 
can  never  learn  tlie  secret  from  liim,  and  it  is  plain  tliat  his 
wife  does  not  know  where  the  money  is." 

"  I  have  dealt  with  hard-headed  rebels  befoie  now," 
replied  Flaskill.  "  It  is  astonishing  how  these  old  fellows 
will  hold  out.  I  have  hung  several  imtil  they  were  nearly 
dead,  and  failed  to  wring  their  secret  from  them.  What 
are  those  in  that  corner?  gravestones  ! "  he  asked,  as  his 
roving  eye  caught  sight  of  the  white  tombstones,  glistening 
in  the  firelight. 

"  Yes,  they  are  gravestones,"  replied  Cashmore,  as  he 
examined  these  sad  mementoes  of  the  dead.  "  I  see  they 
are  the  graves  of  three  rebels — the  sons  of  old  Alexan- 
der." 

"  What  safer  place  to  hide  the  gold  in  ?  "  exclaimed 
Flaskill,  with  animated  tone.  "  Near  Eome,  I  once  found 
a  good  haul  of  plate  and  jewels  hid  in  a  pretended  grave, 
eh!" 

"  Let  me  assert,  upon  my  solemn  oath,"  said  Mr.  Alex- 
ander, who  overheard  this  conversation,  "  that  those  three 
graves  contain  nothing  except  the  coffins  and  bodies  of  my 
three  dead  boys." 

"  I  think  you  are  lying,"  replied  the  valiant  "  bum- 
mer," kicking  down  one  of  the  headstones.  "  You  are  too 
anxious  to  keep  us  from  searching." 

"  If  I  am  anxious,  and  indeed  I  admit  that  I  am,  it  is 
because  I  would  not  have  the  last  resting-place  of  my  sons 
1 


146  THE   MCDONALDS  ; 

desecrated  by  a  vain  and  sacrilegious  search  for  gold,"  said 
the  aged  planter  in  a  stern  and  rebuking  tone. 

"  Bring  spades  here,  some  of  you,"  cried  FlaskiU.  *'  I 
will  soon  see  what  is  buried  here." 

"  Man  !  be  merciful !  Have  some  shame  if  you  have 
not  pity  ! "  cried  Mrs.  Alexander,  hastening  to  the  graves, 
and  placing  her  hands  upon  the  arm  of  the  ferocious 
captain. 

He  cast  her  aside  with  a  fierce  oath,  and  warned  her 
not  to  disturb  him  again.  The  poor  mother  could  only 
weep  and  kneel,  asking  aid  from  Heaven  to  support  her 
under  this  sad  outrage  to  her  beloved  dead. 

One  of  the  most  repulsive  features  in  that  eager  search 
for  gold  and  hidden  treasures,  which  formed  so  salient  a 
trait  in  the  character  of  those  who  disgraced  and  de- 
graded the  Federal  arms,  during  the  invasion  of  Southern 
homes,  was  the  desecration  of  graves.  This  fact  is  too  well 
known  to  need  expatiating  upon  here,  and  we  can  only 
mourn  over  that  fearful  depra\dty  of  the  human  heart  which 
transformed  men  into  hyenas  and  jackals;  a  depravity 
which  did  not  spring  from  hatred  of  the  dead,  nor  from 
that  bitter  sectional  malice  which  resulted  in  the  desoUtion 
of  the  South ;  but  which  arose  from  avarice  and  cupidity 
of  the  basest  origin,  and  had  full  scope  for  exercise  under 
*•  the  order  for  relentless  devastation."  The  same  fell  spirit 
is  still  rampant,  for  it  was  but  the  other  day  that  we  read 
in  a  New  York  paper : 


147 


"Loyalty  Illusteated. — We  take  the  following  from  the 
New  York  Weekly  Magazine,  July  7th,  published  by  the  Amer- 
ican News  Company  :  '  It  has  been  discovered  that  the  men 
recently  employed  by  the  Government  [all  loyal  of  course] 
to  disinter  the  bodies  of  our  dead  soldiers  on  the  battle-fields 
near  Richmond,  after  having  searched  the  bodies  for  money 
and  jewelry,  pulled  open  the  mouths  of  the  corpses,  punched 
out  the  teeth,  examined  if  they  were  plugged,  and  if  they  were, 
cracked  the  teeth  to  pieces  for  the  gold-fillings.  No  insult  that 
rebels  have  ever  offered  to  the  loyal  dead  can  approach  in 
atrocity  this  most  incredible  desecration.'  " 

Is  not  this  feature  of  the  barbarism  of  the  nineteenth 
century  most  horrible  to  contemplate  ? 

Well,  this  barbarism  had  full,  free,  and  fearful  scope 
during  the  Grand  March,  even  unto  its  end,  at  Raleigh. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


HANGING      FOR      GOLD. 


Mr.    Alexander,   unable    to   prevent  the   sacrilege 
maintained  a  dignified  silence,  while  the  "  bummers"  toiled 
sharply  at   the  graves.     Mrs.  Alexander   groaned  as  she 
heard  the  fall  of  the  tombstones,  but  her  voice  was  hushed 
in  speechless  woe. 

It  was  a  terrible  trial  of  the  firmness  of  the  aged  plant- 
er, to  behold  those  fiend-like  ruflSans  in  their  unholy 
work,  to  know  that  the  gold  they  sought  was  not  there, 


148  TUE  m'donalds  ; 


and  to  feel  that  a  word,  a  gesture,  from  liim  would  pro- 
tect the  dead,  and  point  out  the  spot  where  he  had  con- 
cealed the  money  years  before.  But  he  knew  that  his  duty 
to  the  living,  to  his  son-in-law,  to  his  daughter,  and  his 
grandchildren,  commanded  him  to  remain  silent;  and, 
indeed,  such  was  the  Spartan-like  fortitude  and  Roman- 
like pride  of  his  nature,  that  it  is  not  at  all  probable 
that  he  would  have  yielded  to  compulsion,  under  any  cir- 
cumstances. 

The  old  man  looked  on  gi'imly,  his  eyes  sometimes 
wandering  from  the  graves  to  his  sobbing  wife,  and  then  to 
the  terror-smitten  faces  of  the  few  servants  who  remained 
upon  the  premises.  Not  once  did  his  glance  stray  to 
the  spot  where  that  for  which  they  sought  was  hid.  He 
knew  that  the  keen  and  experienced  scrutiny  of  Cashmore 
and  Flaskill  was  fixed  upon  him,  and  he  sought  by  his  air 
to  impress  them  with  the  fact  that  the  gold  was  not  where 
they  sought. 

Probably  Flaskill  became  convinced  that  he  was  upon 
the  wrong  track,  from  the  composed  look  of  the  sturdy 
planter ;  for  no  sooner  had  the  spades  touched  the  coffins 
than  he  commanded  his  men  to  desist. 

The  dead  of  Mr.  Alexander  were  more  fortunate  in 
their  repose  than  many  others  then  beneath  the  sod  of 
prostrate  Georgia.  As  we  write,  an  instance  of  the  many 
which  occurred,  flashes  into  our  mind,  and  we  give  it  with 
the  true  name  of  the  ailiicted  family : 


149 

In  Washington  County,  Georgia,  six  miles  cast  of  San- 
dersville,  the  Federals  of  Sherman's  army,  dug  up  the  body 
of  Mr.  Thomas  Tanner,  in  search  of  hidden  treasure ;  and 
though  implored  by  the  gray-haired  old  father  to  permit 
him  to  reinter  the  corpse  of  his  son,  they  threatened  to 
blow  his  brains  out  if  he  touched  the  body.  The  desecra- 
ted corpse  remained  unburied  for  three  days.  Nor  was  this 
the  only  instance  of  the  kind  in  that  county  ! 

No  doubt,  had  our  ^  bummer  "  captain  not  been  confi- 
dent that  the  graves  of  the  three  Alexanders  contained  no 
hidden  gold,  he  would  have  rifled  the  coffins,  and  been  as 
brutal  as  his  fellow-Federals  in  Washing-ton  County.  But 
there  was  a  scornful  and  triumphant  gleam  in  the  steady 
eyes  of  the  old  planter,  which  convinced  Flaskili  that  he 
was  wasting  time  in  useless  search. 

"  Set  fire  to  the  old  rebel's  house  !"  he  shouted.  "  If 
that  does  not  bring  him  to  his  senses,  we  will  try  the 
rope." 

While  these  events  were  transpiring  in  the  front  yard, 
several  of  the  troopers  had  busied  themselves  in  performing 
an  act  of  useless  and  wanton  barbarity  in  the  rear  yard — a 
deed  often  committed  by  the  "  bummers  "  of  this  march. 
Having  found  much  more  bacon  in  the  smoke-house  of  the 
old  planter  than  could  be  conveniently  carried  away,  the 
troopers  made  a  layer  of  Mrs.  Alexander's  dresses  upon  the 
ground ;  on  this  they  placed  a  layer  of  bacon,  shoulders 
and  hams  ;   then  a  layer  of  the  clothes  of  Mr.  Alexander  ; 


150  THE   MCDONALDS  ; 

then  another  layer  of  bacon ;  then  another  layer  of  the 
clothes  of  Mrs.  Alexander,  and  other  apparel  of  the  family ; 
and  so  on,  nntil  there  was  a  great  pile  of  bacon  and  gar- 
ments. Covering  the  heap  with  bed-clothes,  straw,  loose 
cotton,  and  furniture,  these  civilized  warriors  set  the  heap 
on  fire,  and  performed  a  kind  of  extemporaneous  war-dance 
around  the  flames,  thus  resembling  evil  spirits  holding  mid- 
night orgies.  The  flames  gleamed  upon  their  bronzed  and 
bearded  faces,  as  they  whirled,  danced,  and  yelled,  while 
the  dense  smoke  and  sufibcating  stench  of  the  pile  added 
to  the  hideousness  of  the  scene. 

Hearing  the  shouts  of  those  in  the  front  yard,  when  the 
order  was  given  to  fire  the  house,  the  whole  command 
mshed  into  the  doomed  mansion,  torches  in  hand. 

"  Our  beloved  home  will  soon  be  in  ashes,"  said"  Mr. 
Alexander  to  his  wife,  as  he  saw  the  flaming  of  the  incen- 
diary torches  through  tlie  windows. 

"  God's  will  be  done,  my  husband  !  "  replied  the  meek 
and  pious  wife,  clasping  her  withered  hands,  and  raising 
her  streaming  eyes  to  heaven. 

"  We  have  spent  many  happy  years  in  that  house,"  con- 
tinued Mr.  Alexander,  gazing  mournfully  upon  the  devoted 
mansion.  "  We  have  loved,  and  adorned  and  cherished  it, 
until  every  timber  is  dear  to  us,  Eunice.  Our  children 
were  all  bom  there.  God  give  me  strength  to  bear  up 
under  this  chasetisement !  " 

The  flames  besran  to  take  firm  hold  of  the  seasoned 


151 

timbers  of  the  house,  fired  as  it  was  in  hundreds  of  places. 
The  "  bummers "  dashed  in  the  plastering  of  the  walls 
with  their  heels,  and  thrust  fire  into  these  openings,  so 
that  the  intensity  of  the  heat  soon  drove  them  from  the 
house. 

The  fire  roared  and  rushed  here  and  there,  lapping  the 
edifice  from  basement  to  roof,  darting  its  red  tongues 
from  doors  and  windows,  hurling  great  volumes  of  smoke 
high  in  the  air ;  and,  as  if  inspired  with  the  same  vindic- 
tive rage  which  had  created  it,  crackling  fiercely  and  loudly 
as  it  charged  from  chamber  to  chamber  and  filled  the  des- 
ecrated halls  of  this  once-honored  Southern  home,  with  a 
red  and  sombre  torrent  of  living  wrath. 

"  You  see  we  are  in  dead  earnest,"  said  Flaskill,  as  he 
returned  to  the  side  of  his  aged  victim.  "  You  may  now 
know  that  I  shall  not  hesitate  to  hang  you,  if  you  refuse  to 
tell  where  you  hid  the  gold." 

Jerome  Alexander,  a  descendant  of  those  brave  North 
Carolinians  of  the  Revolution  of  1776,  who  at  Mecklen- 
burg promulgated  the  first  Declaration  of  Independence, 
and  on  the  banks  of  the  Alamance  shed  the  first  British 
blood  of  that  seven  years'  war  for  freedom,  regarded  the 
truculent  "bummer  "  captain  with  a  stern  and  steady  gaze 
of  fathomless  contempt. 

"  You  may  hang  me,  sir,  you  may  torture  me  ;  but 
though  my  frail  and  feeble  body  may  groan  with  anguish, 
my  tongue  will  never  betray  the  secret  of  another." 


152  THE  MCDONALDS; 

"  Jerome,  Jerome,  my  dear  husband,"  said  bis  weep- 
ing wife,  as  sbc  clung  to  bim  in  her  anguisb  of  heart,  *'  I 
know  that  our  son-in-law,  and  our  daughter,  would  gladly 
lose  ten,  nay,  a  thousand  times  the  amount  to  save  you 
from  injury." 

"  That's  sensible  talk,  old  lady,"  cried  Flaskill,  approv- 
ingly. "  Put  it  to  the  obstinate  old  rebel  mule  in  that 
style,  and  you  may  save  his  neck  from  being  stretched." 

"  Eunice,"  repUed  the  firm-hearted  old  Georgian,  turn- 
ing his  steady  and  heroic  eyes  upon  her,  "  I  know  that 
they  would  give  even  their  lives  to  save  me  from  harm, 
and  therefore  am  I  willing  to  give  my  life  to  save  them 
and  theii'  little  ones  from  starvation.  But,  had  I  not  even 
this  powerful  motive  to  bind  my  tongue,  these  wretches 
should  never  force  Jerome  Alexander  to  enrich  them.  Do 
you,  my  dear  wife,  retire  to  some  spot  where  you  can 
neither  see  nor  hear  what  they  do — " 

"  No,  none  of  that,"  cried  the  brutal  Cashmore,  as  he 
grasped  the  arm  of  the  wife,  as  she  was  about  to  leave  the 
scene,  unable  to  endure  the  sight  of  a  tortured  husband. 
"  You  must  stay  and  see  the  fun.  Besides,  d'ye  see,  it 
will  be  worse  than  the  rope  to  him  to  have  you  looking 
on." 

This  was  a  refinement  of  barbarity  not  pecuHar  to  Mr. 
Seth  Cashmore.  It  is  tme,  that  in  some  of  the  many  in- 
stances, in  which  the  ruthless  invaders  of  1864  and  of  1865 
tortured  old  white-haired  men  to  force  them  to  reveal  im- 


OR,   THE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN   HOMES.  153 

aginary  hoards,  the  cruel  troopers  would  lead  their  victims 
to  some  retired  spot,  ashamed  or  unwilling  that  the  fami- 
lies of  the  tortured  should  witness  these  revolting  atrocities  ; 
but  in  most  cases  the  heads  of  fcunilies  were  tortured  be- 
fore their  doors,  in  the  presence  of  w^eeping,  praying, 
shrieking  wives  and  daughters — thus  using  a  twofold 
torture,  fit  illustration  of  Yankee  brutality  and  Puritan 
deviltry. 

"  Bring  a  rope  !  "  commanded  Flaskill,  fiercely.  "  I 
have  half  a  mind  to  string  them  both  up,  back  to  back." 

This  savage  threat,  however,  did  not  seem  to  be  popular 
with  his  men,  who  called  out : 

"  No,  no.  She  is  an  old  w^oman,  half  dead  already. 
Let  her  go.     Squeeze  the  stubborn  old  rebel." 

A  cord,  knotted  into  a  hangman's  noose,  was  cast 
around  the  neck  of  the  aged  planter — but  we  will  not  enter 
further  into  the  sickening  details  of  the  scene.  Suflnce  it 
to  say,  that  the  unfortunate  old  man  was  hanged  like  a 
felon  to  the  limb  of  a  tree  near  the  graves  of  his  three 
sons  ;  hanged  torturingly,  again  and  again,  until  conscious- 
ness forsook  the  battered  frame,  and  not  until  then  did  the 
ferocious  gold-mad  marauders  let  the  corpse-Hke  body  fall 
heavily  upon  the  ground. 

"  I  beUeve  the  obstinate  old  fool  is  dead,  and  his  secret 
with  him,"  growled  Flaskill.  "  Well,  it  was  his  own  fault 
— he  could  have  saved  us  all  this  trouble,  as  well  as  his 
life,  by  telling  where  his  gold  is  hid.     Come,  we  have 


154  THE  MCDONALDS  ; 

finished  this  business,  and  not  made  much  either.  Let  tlie 
-vvaiTons  move  on.  Fall  in,  men,  fall  in.  We  have  other 
places  to  visit.  Ilurry  up,  hurry  up !  The  old  rebel  has 
delayed  us. — Well,  sergeant,  couldn't  you  find  any  thing 
of  those  M'Donalds?" 

"  Not  a  trace,  captain,"  replied  the  sergeant.  *'  There 
are  too  many  good  hiding-places  around,  and  we  know 
nothing  of  the  country." 

"  Veiy  well.  Let  them  go.  AVe'll  take  our  revenge 
out  of  some  other  rebels.  Prepare  to  mount!  Mount! 
Forward ! " 

Mrs.  Alexander  had  thrown  herself  upon  the  body  of 
her  husband  as  soon  as  it  was  abandoned  by  the  "  bum- 
mers ; "  and,  regardless  of  all  else,  endeavored  to  restore 
him  to  life  and  consciousness.  She  loosened  the  cruel  cord 
from  his  lacerated  neck,  chafed  his  hands,  and  used  every 
means  in  her  feeble  power  to  recall  the  light  of  life  to  his 
eyes. 

The  blare  of  the  Federal  bugle  as  the  troopers  hurried 
to  their  saddles  seemed  to  reach  the  stunned  ears  of  the 
planter,  for  bis  eyes  lost  their  glassy  stare,  and  his  lips 
essayed  to  speak ! 

"  Thank  God !  he  lives,"  whispered  the  poor  wife,  as 
she  beckoned  to  a  terrified  negress  standing  near.  "  Go 
bring  some  water  from  the  spring — the  well  is  destroyed — 
be  quick !" 

The  negress  hastened  away,  w^hile  the  wife,  trembling 


155 

lest  the  departing  troopers  should  discover  that  their  vic- 
tim still  lived,  and  return  to  make  sure  their  butchery ;  and 
trembling  still  more  lest  the  bright  fire  gleaming  again  in 
those  beloved  eyes  should  suddenly  and  forever  die  out, 
poured  forth  her  muttered  and  incoherent  prayers  to 
Heaven  for  aid  and  protection. 

Her  home,  her  beloved  home,  was  totally  destroyed. 
Mansion,  kitchen,  out-houses,  smoke-house,  cariiage-house, 
stables,  cabins,  cribs — all  were  red-hot  embers,  or  heaps  of 
smouldering  ashes.  All  her  male  sei  7ants  had  been  swept 
away,  gone  to  swell  that  host  of  miserables  which  dwindled 
and  scattered  their  bones  from  Atlanta  to  the  sea.  Her 
plantation  was  stripped,  all  worldly  goods  remorselessly 
swallowed  up  by  flame  and  robbery,  but  she  thought  not 
of  these.  Her  husband,  gasping  for  life,  lay  before  her, 
and  her  whole  soul  was  attentive  to  him  and  God  alone. 

The  marauders  were  far  away ;  she  heard  their  hateful 
bugle-note  echoing  amid  the  distant  hills,  when  a  voice 
spoke  by  her  side. 

"  Great  Heaven !  have  they  murdered  the  noble  old 
man  ? " 

She  turned  and  beheld  Mrs.  M'Donald  kneeling  near 
her,  while  the  graceful  form  of  Myrtis  bent  over  her 
mother. 

"  Ah,  I  fear  they  have,  I  fear  they  have,"  replied  Mrs.  , 
Alexander.     **  And  yet  his  eyes  seem  so  clear  and  intelli- 
gent !    Look  !    Do  you  think  he  will  live  ?    Speak  to  your 
poor  wife,  Jerome,  ray  husband." 


156 


Mrs.  McDonald,  always  more  or  less  an  invalid,  had 
■with  lier  both  cainplior  and  hartshorn,  and  as  the  negrcss 
returned  with  a  gourd  of  water  she  mingled  a  few  drops 
of  the  medicines  with  the  liquid,  and  succeeded  in  making 
the  old  planter  swallow  it. 

He  struggled  a  moment  for  his  choked  voice  and 
found  it. 

"I  live — I  am  better.     Wife — are  they  gone?  " 

"  He  speaks !  Blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord !  "  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Alexander.     "Yes,  Jerome,  they  have  gone." 

"  Help  me  to  my  feet,"  said  Mr.  Alexander,  huskily. 

"  Not  yet,"  replied  Mrs.  M'Donald,  whose  experience 
in  the  Atlanta  hospitals  was  now  of  great  use.  "  Lie  still 
as  you  are  until  your  strength  comes  back.  Oh,  if  we  had 
some  spirits  or  strong  cordial ! " 

"  Wait,  missus,"  cried  old  Myra,  who  had  joined  the 
party.  "  Dar's  a  jar  of  cherry  brandy  left  in  de  yard  by 
dem  locusses.     Juss  hold  on." 

The  old  negress  sped  away,  and  soon  returned  with  the 
jar ;  and,  after  the  planter  had  partaken  freely  of  its  stimu- 
lating contents,  he  again  asked  to  be  aided  to  his  feet. 

With  the  assistance  of  the  ladies  he  was  soon  erect,  and 
gazing  about  him. 

The  embers  of  his  late  happy  home  glared  in  his  eyes, 
but  he  turned  his  gaze  for  the  first  time  that  night  to  the 
spot  where  was  hidden  that  maddening  yellow  dross  for 
which  so  many  sell  their  eternal  souls. 


157 

In  a  hollow  between  the  forks  of  a  tree,  upon  a  hmb  of 
which  he  had  been  so  dreadfully  tortured,  covered  with 
rotting  wood  and  leaves,  over  which  had  grown  a  thick 
covering  of  moss  and  mould,  was  hidden  the  canister  of 
gold. 

His  eyes  glistened  as  they  noticed  that  the  green  rich- 
ness of  the  mould  was  undisturbed,  and  a  smile  of  pride 
and  triumph  curled  his  pale  lip  as  he  whispered  to  his 
wife : 

"  It  is  still  safe !  you  cannot  tell  how  I  feared  for  my 
secret  when  that  trooper  climbed  right  over  the  spot  to 
arrange  his  rope  for  my  hanging." 

Mrs.  Alexander  shuddered  as  she  glanced  toward  the 
tree,  but  made  no  remark.  It  was  a  secret  which  had 
nearly,  might  yet  cost  her  husband  his  life,  and  she  turned 
her  thoughts  from  it  gladly. 

"You  were  fortunate  in  hiding,  Mrs.  M'Donald," 
continued  the  old  planter,  his  voice  growing  stronger  as  he 
spoke — "  very  fortunate,  for  that  fellow  Cashmore  meant 
the  basest  usage  toward  you  and  your  daughter." 

So  was  Mr.  Alexander  fortunate,  in  not  being  left  a  stiff 
and  staring  corpse  by  those  merciless  marauders — far 
more  fortunate  than  scores  of  others  who  were  literally 
hanged  or  tortured  to  death  during  that  dreadful  march 
under  "  the  order  for  relentless  devastation." 

"It  seems  we  were  indeed  fortunate,"  replied  Mrs. 
M'Donald,  as  she  glanced  upon  the  red  and  smouldering 


158  THE  m'donalds  ; 

ruins  around.  "  We  hid  in  the  pine  thicket,  and  were 
very  nearly  found  by  a  party  of  troopers  who  evidently 
were  searching  for  us.  Heaven  knows  what  agony  of  mind 
we  suffered  as  we  heard  the  fierce  oaths  and  horrible  lan- 
guage of  those  men.  They  seemed  to  know,  or  at  least  to 
hope,  that  we  were  within  hearing,  for  they  called  us  by 
name,  and  uttered  the  vilest  threats  of  what  would  be  our 
fate,  should  they  catch  us.  O  God !  can  it  be  possible 
that  those  men  were  born  of  woman  ?  Awful !  Such  base, 
inhuman,  degrading  threats !  I  shudder  as  I  recall  them. 
I  shall  shudder  to  my  dying  day  as  I  remember  their  dread- 
ful speech.'- 

The  noble  and  refined  lady,  nurtured  in  the  lap  of 
wealth  and  esteem,  living  in  an  atmosphere  of  high-bred 
politeness  and  scrupulous  respect  for  women,  until  the 
abolition  crusade  swept  over  the  unhappy  South,  hid  her 
pale  face  in  her  trembling  hands,  as  did  her  no  less  shocked 
daughter,  as  the  remembrance  of  what  had  passed  flashed 
upon  their  minds. 

Well  might  they  shudder.  The  sergeant  deputed  by 
the  infamous  Flaskill  to  seek  for  them,  was  one  of  the  vilest 
of  the  vile ;  one  of  those  ribaldry-loving  swine  in  the  sem- 
blance of  humanity,  who  delight  in  villanous  oaths,  atro- 
cious blasphemy,  and  foul  language.  While  beating  about 
the  woods  with  his  scarcely  less  debased  comrades,  seeking 
eagerly  for  the  trembling  ladies,  who  lay  cowering  beneath 
a  heap  of  decayed  twigs,  branches,  and  pine-straw,  the 


OK,   THE   ASHES   OF   SOnTHEBN   HOMES.  159 

inhuman  wretcli  had  filled  the  air  ^.ith  oaths  and  awfuUy- 
spol^en  threats  of  violence  worse  than  death.     Crouching 
shuddering,  quivering  in  the  very  extreme  of  terror,  hat 
delicate  mother  and  that  tender  daughter  were  forced  to 
hear  every  vile  word.     Sometimes,  though  tremblmg  even 
to  breathe,  lest  their  hiding-place  might  be  revealed  by  a 
sigh,  they  stopped  their  ears,  to  shut  out  the  torrent  o 
iocious  ribaldry  and  obscenity  rolling  from  the   oud 
tonguesoftheferocious  troopers  as  theyflounderedamidthe 

thicket;  then  anxious  to  know  if  their  pursuers  were  st^ 
near,  they  would  listen  again,  until  shocked  and  mutilated 
„,odesty  demanded  instant  stoppage  of  the  sense  of  hearing 
And  what  dreadW  fate  would  have  been  theirs  had 
their  infuriated  and  unscrupulous  seekers  found  them  m 
their  covert!    Let  the  fate,  sad,  melancholy,  maddening 
fate,  of  many  a  hapless  Southern  maid  and  matron,  victims 
oftLatciJ  war,  answer.    We  dare  not.    Letthe  dishev- 
elled  hair,  the  staring  eyes,  the  incoherent  speech   the 
craved  intellects  and  broken  hearts  of  many  an  inmate  of 
Southern  lunatic  asylums,  reply.     We  will  not.     Let  gib- 
bering idiocy,  frenzied  grief,  maddening  shame,  raging 
anguish,  moaning  sorrow   grovelling  amid  the  ashes  of 
Southern  homes,  reply.     We  cannot. 

u  May  God  help  us  all  to  bear  our  trials !  remarked 
Mr.  Alexander.  "I  see  that  the  enemy  has  left  us  nothing, 
not  even  a  shed  for  shelter.  Poor  things,"  he  continued, 
ga.in.  pityingly  upon   a  group   of  negresses  and  their 


ICO  THE   MCDONALDS; 

children,  "  they  say  they  do  all  this  that  you  may  be  free. 
But  I  sec  none  of  the  men,  nor  any  of  the  larger  boys." 

"  De  Yankees  done  drived  and  earned  off  all  our  hus- 
bands, massa,  and  all  de  grown-up  boys,"  replied  an  old 
crone,  who  seemed  to  be  the  ancestress  of  all.  "  Gwinc  to 
make  sojers  of  dem,  day  said." 

"  Did  they  go  willingly.  Clary  ?  " 

"  Some  jus'  foolish  'nuff  to  go  any  whar,"  replied  Clary, 
rocking  herself  to  and  fro  over  a  sick  negro  child.  "  But 
dem  as  wasn't  willin'  to  go,  day  knocked  down  wid  derc 
guns,  and  made  'em  go  anyhow.  'Fore  God,  dis  chile  is 
mity  sick,  an'  all  de  beds  done  burned  up.  De  Lor'  help 
us,  massa." 

"  Amen  !  "  replied  Mr.  Alexander.  "  We  are  indeed  in 
a  fearful  strait,  and  need  help.  You  must  shift  for  your- 
selves, poor  creatures.  You  see  how  our  enemies  have  left 
us.  Scatter  over  the  country.  Those  who  have  houses 
left  will  shelter  you.  Come,  wife,  and  ladies,  some  of  our 
neighbors  may  have  a  house  left  to  welcome  us  to  its  shel- 
ter for  a  few  days." 

But  help  soon  amved,  in  the  person  of  a  poor  but  vigi- 
lant neighbor,  whose  humble  home  had  escaped  the  rush 
of  the  invading  host.  At  a  distance  he  had  seen  the  burn- 
ing home  of  the  Alexanders,  and  when  assured  that  the 
enemy  had  passed  on  to  destroy  elsewhere,  had  hastened 
with  his  wagon,  drawn  by  a  single  broken-down  horse,  to 
offer  the  shelter  of  his  log  cabin,  which  was  accepted 
gratefully. 


161 


Tlie  helpless  negresses  and  their  children  remained  for 
hours,  staring  at  the  embers  and  ashes  of  what  had  ever 
been  to  them  a  noble,  a  generous,  a  patriarchal  home ; 
wondering,  in  their  simple  intellects,  if  to  make  negroes 
free  it  was  necessary  to  bum  their  homes,  destroy  their 
food;  and  ruin  the  only  persons  to  whom  they  could  look 
for  aid. 


CHAPTER    XII. 


ALWAYS     WOUNDED. 


It  is  impossible,  in  a  work  of  this  size,  to  follow 
minutely  the  wanderings,  trials,  and  miseries  of  theM'Don- 
alds  up  to  the  day  when  they  found  shelter  beneath  the 
roof  of  a  relative  in  the  capital  of  the  Palmetto  State,  in 
February,  1865.  Their  mournful  history  was  very  similar 
to  that  of  thousands  who  were  driven  from  their  blazing 
homes  by  Federal  torches. 

The  hosts  of  Sherman  had  swept  on  to  the  sea.  The 
Grand  March  had  been  made,  crushing  the  feeble  though 
pertinacious  resistance  of  the  few  thousands  of  ^'  ragged 
rebels  "  who  opposed  its  ever-moving  avalanche  of  "  re- 
lentless devastation." 

"  Thirty  miles  on  ■  either  side  of  a  line  drawn  from 
Atlanta  to  Savannah,"  have  been  devastated.     How  fear- 


162  THE   MCDONALDS  ; 

fully,  terribly  devastated  may  be  imagined  by  reading 
page  37  of  General  Sherman's  official  report,  from  wbicli 
wo  have  repeatedly  quoted. 

The  corn,  fodder,  wheat,  grain,  sweet-potatoes,  cat- 
tle, hogs,  sheep,  poultry — all  that  could  be  used  to  sustain 
human  life,  was  "  consumed  "  by  the  immense  host,  march- 
ing under  the  flag  of  the  Union  to  the  dread  music  of 
that  "  order  for  relentless  devastation,"  all  along  that  vast 
track  over  which  the  red  and  flaming  wrath  of  the  con- 
queror tramped. 

The  ravages,  the  ruin,  the  woe  of  that  celebrated  march 
over  the  ashes  of  Southern  homes,  will  compare  with,  if 
not  exceed,  the  wreck  made  in  India  by  Warren  Hastings. 
Court-houses,  churches,  academies,  public  and  private  edi- 
fices mark  still,  with  piles  of  ashes,  the  path  of  the  de- 
stroyer ;  but  it  is  in  the  hearts  of  the  plundered  and  ruined 
that  we  are  to  find  the  more  terrible  records  of  that  time. 

The  savage  treatment  to  which  Mr.  Alexander  had  been 
subjected,  resulted  in  his  death  within  a  few  weeks  after 
the  destruction  c^f  his  home.  A  fi-ame  so  aged  and  feeble 
could  not  long  support  the  shock  of  the  hangman's  rope. 
He  died  a  patriot,  praying  for  the  welfare  of  his  country  ; 
he  died  a  Christian,  forgiving  his  enemies ;  he  died  a  mar- 
tyr, with  the  scar  of  the  rope  upon  his  neck. 

And  thus  perished  many  other  aged  citizens  of  Georgia 
and  of  South  Carolina.  And  many  are  slowly  but  surely 
and  painfully  perishing,  as  we  pen  this  true  record — their 


OR,   THE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN    HOMES.  163 

timcworn  frames  crushed  to  premature  graves  by  the  tor- 
tures of  the  rope,  the  fist,  and  the  lash,  which  they  suflfered 
at  the  hands  of  men  in  blue,  commonly  called  "  bummers." 
Mrs.  Alexander  did  not  survive  her  aged  husband  longer 
than  to  see  his  body  hidden  beneath  the  clay. 

The  gold  confided  to  the  faithful  care  of  the  old  planter, 
we  may  as  well  state  here,  in  1865,  was  secured  by  his 
widowed  daughter,  and  was  her  only  support,  for  her  hus- 
band died  in  a  Northern  prison,  frozen  to  death. 

Let  us  return  to  the  M'Donalds.  The  name  of  the  rel- 
ative in  Columbia,  whose  generous  roof  gladly  gave  the 
wanderers  shelter,  was  Huger,  a  branch  of  that  noble  family 
so  famous  in  the  annals  of  South  Carolina. 

The  males  of  the  family  were  in  the  army  of  General 
Johnston,  and  only  Mrs.  Huger  and  her  two  daughters 
remained  in  the  city,  at  the  time  the  M'Donalds  became 
their  guests. 

In  this  noble  family,  as  in  all  others  of  the  South,  the 
ravages  of  war  were  plainly  visible.  They  all  wore  that 
black  garb  of  mourning  so  common  then— so  common  yet ; 
and  the  family  had  become  greatly  impoverished.  Yet 
the  almost  royal  hospitality  of  the  South  Carolinian  shone 
as  brilliantly  as  ever.  If  steeped  to  the  lips  in  the  universal 
poverty  of  all  Southern  patriots,  they  were  wilUng  to  share 

their  last  crust  of  bread. 

"We  have  a  wounded  Confederate  officer  in  our  house," 
remarked  Mrs.  Huger,  the   day  after  the  arrival  of  the 


164  THE  m'donalds  ; 

M'Donalds.  ''  He  is  able  to  be  up,  however,  and  you  will 
see  bim  tbis  morning  at  breakfast.  Our  bouse  bas  been 
quite  a  hospital  for  several  weeks ;  but  we  have  only  one 
sufferer  left,  and  he  would  not  remain  any  longer,  did  we 
not  insist  upon  his  regaining  his  strength." 

Both  Mrs.  M'Donaldand  her  daughter  had  seen  so  many 
wounded  Confederates,  and  nursed  so  many  in  hospitals  in 
towns,  and  by  the  wayside,  that  neither  felt  much  curiosity 
upon  the  subject,  and  made  no  further  inquiry. 

They  were  seated  at  the  breakfast-table,  when  they  heard 
hesitating  steps,  aided  by  a  crutch,  approaching  the  door 
of  the  apartment. 

"  It  is  my  patient,"  said  Mrs.  Iluger,  rising  to  open  the 
door. 

The  officer  entered,  evidently  weak  and  in  pain,  but  as 
soon  as  his  eyes  met  those  of  the  M'Donalds  the  latter  ex- 
claimed— 

"  Frank  Bartow ! " 

"  What  is  left  of  him,"  replied  the  young  officer  with  a 
smile  of  sadness,  as  he  extended  a  hand  to  the  mother  and 
daughter.  "  I  have  had  my  old  luck — been  wounded 
again." 

But  Myrtis  M'Donald,  regardless  of  those  present,  after 
regarding  his  thin  visage  and  emaciated  form  for  a  moment, 
burst  into  tears,  and  threw  herself  into  his  arms. 

"  Oh,  Frank !  dear  Frank,  when  will  tbis  dreadful  war 
end  ?  Poor  fellow  !  this  is  the  seventh  time  you  have  been 
wounded." 


OE,   THE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN   HOMES.  1G5 


"  My  luck,  Myrtis,"  replied  Frank,  as  he  took  his  place 
at  the  table.  "  Indeed,  I  was  fortunate  in  Georgia  after  I 
parted  with  you.  I  joined  a  company  of  Confederate  offi- 
cers and  soldiers,  all,  or  nearly  all,  convalescing  from 
wounds  or  sickness,  and  I  flatter  myself  that  we  inflicted 
some  hard  blows  upon  that  host  which  devastated  Georgia 
on  its  way  to  the  sea.  We  fought  them  wherever  we  could, 
and  many  a  band  of  '  bummers '  and  horde  of  plunderers 
— that  is,  the  survivors — have  good  cause  to  remember  the 
command  of  Captain  Brantley.  I  was  fortunate  in  escaping 
injury." 

"  But  when  were  you  wounded  ? "  asked  Myrtis,  regard- 
ing her  scarred  lover  with  admiring  eyes. 

"  I  was  shot  below  the  knee,  a  few  weeks  ago,  while 
engaged  in  a  reconnoissance — you  must  know  that  I  had 
succeeded  in  gaining  a  position  upon  the  staff"  of  that  noble 
son  of  Georgia,  General  William  J.  Hardee."  He  hastened 
to  a  window  and  looked  out.  "  But  there  go  a  party  of 
officers,  and  one  of  them  is  our  kinsman.  General  Wade 
Hampton — see,  he  is  looking  this  way — ^he  is  coming  tow- 
ard the  house." 

General  Hampton,  for  it  was  that  famous  leader,  halted 
immediately  beneath  the  window,  and,  on  seeing  the  ladies, 
he  bared  his  head  and  bowed,  saying: 

*'  Ah,  you  are  there,  my  cousins !  I  heard  this  morn- 
ing that  you  had  sought  refuge  in  Columbia,  and  I  heard, 
too,  that  you.  Captain  Bartow,  were  badly  wounded.  Can 
you  sit  in  the  saddle  ? " 


166  THE  m'donalds 


"  Only  to  fall  out  of  it,  general,"  replied  Captain  Bar- 
tow, in  a  mournful  tone. 

"  I  will  have  a  litter,  or  an  ambulance  here  for  you, 
captain,"  remarked  the  general.  "  Our  mihtary  council 
has  decided  to  leave  Columbia  to  her  fate,"  he  added,  in  a 
bitter  tone,  for  he  had  opposed  the  abandonment  of  the 
capital.  "  What  her  fate  will  be  I  can  well  imagine.  She 
will  be  plundered  and  burned." 

"  General,"  replied  Captain  Bartow,  after  pausing  a 
moment,  during  which  his  eyes  had  met  those  of  Myitis 
M'Donald,  "  I  do  not  wish  to  add  to  the  incumbrance  of  a 
flying  army.     I  will  remain." 

"As  you  please,  my  dear  follow,  but  persuade  those 
ladies  to  retreat  from  the  city  while  there  is  time,"  said 
General  Hampton.  "  Columbia,  as  the  capital  of  South 
Carolina,  will  be  destroyed." 

Then,  bidding  them  adieu,  he  bowed  and  rejoined  the 
party  of  general  officers. 

"  And  that  small,  dark-faced  man  is  the  gallant  Beaure- 
gard," said  Myrtis,  gazing  after  the  party. 

"  Yes,  that  is  Beauregard,  the  idol  of  Louisiana,"  re- 
plied Captain  Bartow,  in  tones  of  admiration.  "  The  hero 
of  Shiloh,  and  the  preserver  of  Charleston,  until  it  became 
useless  to  the  Confederacy.  But  you  have  heard  all  that 
General  Hampton  said.  The  city  is  being  abandoned  by 
our  troops — " 

"  And  how  foolish  in  Frank  Bartow,  a  Confederate 


167 


officer,  to  remain  in  it  to  be  captured ! "  interrupted  Mrs. 
M'Donald. 

"  And  in  my  dear  Mrs.  M'Donald  also,"  retorted  the 
officer.  "  No  doubt  her  old  acquaintance,  Mr.  Seth  Cash- 
more,  is  still  with  Shei-man's  army,  and  desires  to  pay  his 
respects  to  the  M'Donalds,  eh  ? " 

"  Dat's  so,"  put  in  old  Myra.  "  I  tole  missus  dat  dar 
was  no  use  in  comin'  to  Columby  to  git  away  from  dem 
blue  locusses — day  bound  to  go  eberywhere,  an'  de  nex' 
place  sure  to  come  to  Columby,  an'  sartin  to  burn  de  town. 
Bress  de  Lor  !  "  cried  the  old  negress,  clapping  her  hands, 
"  I  done  hid  dat  portrait  of  ole  massa  when  we  was  in 
'Gusty,  Georgia.  It's  tored  an'  faced  mightily,  but  'tain't 
spiled — " 

"  Hush,  Myra !  Go  eat  your  breakfast,"  said  her  mis- 
tress, who  was  plunged  into  anxious  thought. 

"  Got  no  appletite  for  breakfus  when  I  knows  dem  blue 
locusses  comin'  to  Columby,"  muttered  old  Myra,  shaking 
her  head.  "  Mr.  Cashmore  sure  to  be  wid  'em,  after  spoons 
and  all  sich.     He  jest  sich  truck  as  Butler  de  beast." 

"  The  Federals  will  be  here  to-morrow,"  remarked  Cap- 
tain Bartow.  "  Decide,  ladies.  General  Hampton  was 
right.     The  city  will  be  destroyed." 

Tears  were  streaming  from  the  eyes  of  Mrs.  M'Donald 
as  the  officer  spoke.  Poor  lady !  she  was  thinking  of  her 
trials,  her  sufferings,  losses,  and  wanderings.  Much  and 
incessant  calamity  had  begun  to  tell  even  upon  her  heroic 
and  enduring  spirit. 


168  THE  m'donalds; 

"  O  my  God ! "  she  mused,  "  will  my  wanderings,  my 
flights  never  cease  until  1  lay  my  weary  head  in  the  grave  ? 
Am  I  ever  to  be  a  fugitive  in  the  land  of  my  fathers  ?  I 
fled  from  the  sea  to  Rome,  from  Rome  to  Canton,  from 
Canton  to  Marietta,  from  Marietta  to  Atlanta,  from  Atlanta 
to  Newton,  from  Newton  to  Augusta,  from  Augusta  to 
Charleston,  from  Charleston  to  Columbia — whither  shall  I 
now  flee?" 

The  fate  which  this  unfortunate  lady  deplored  had  been 
the  fate  of  thousands  of  noble  Southern  matrons ;  pursued 
from  refuge  to  refiige;  the  torch  and  the  bayonet,  the 
sword  and  the  shell,  the  threat  and  the  deed  of  an  ever- 
advancing  foe,  keen  and  destiiictive  upon  their  paths. 
Should  the  eye  of  a  Northern  matron,  secure  in  the  pro- 
tection and  opulence  of  her  powerful  section,  ever  read 
these  pages,  let  her  extend  her  sympathy  to  her  impover- 
ished, homeless,  broken-hearted  sisters  of  the  South. 


CHAPTER  Xm. 

CASHMORE    ON    THE    TRACK. 


But  when  Myrtis  McDonald  passed  her  loving  arms 
around  her  mother's  neck,  and  pressed  her  soft  lips  to  hers, 
the  unhappy  widow  dried  her  tears,  and  the  old  look  of 
defiant  resolution  returned  to  her  eyes. 


OE,   THE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN   HOMES.  169 

"  I  will  retreat  no  farther,  unless  driven  by  the  bayo- 
net," she  said. 

"But  Casbmore — "  urged  bcr  daughter,  who,  since 
that  fearful  night  in  Newton  County,  had  ever  shuddered 
in  recalling  the  image  of  that  villain. 

"  It  is  hardly  probable  that  he  is  still  with  Sherman's 
army,"  replied  Mrs.  M'Donald. 

"  Even  the  possibility  of  ever  again  being  in  the  power 
of  that  wretch  is  horrible,"  said  Myrtis.  "  Mother,  I  dare 
not  remain." 

"  "Nov  shall  you  remain  with  my  consent,  my  child," 
replied  her  mother. 

"  And  leave  you,  mother  ?  " 

"  My  dear  child,"  answered  Mrs.  M'Donald,  "  I  am  un- 
able to  undergo  the  fatigues  of  another  retreat — and  why 
retreat?  It  is  ever  my  fortune  to  be  overtaken.  But, 
perhaps,  if  we  separate,  you  may  be  more  fortunate.  I 
know  that  Captain  Bartow  refused  the  kind  offer  of  General 
Hampton  for  some  other  purpose  than  merely  to  be  cap- 
tured by  his  hated  enemies." 

"True,  madam,"  said  Captain  Bartow.  "  I  would  have 
felt  small  in  spirit  while  riding  in  the  general's  ambulance, 
and  reflecting  that  my  betrothed  and  her  mother  were  left 
to  the  mercy  of  such  villains  as  Cashmore  and  Flaskill." 

"  Ah,  you  have  not  yet  heard  how  they  treated  poor 
Mr.  Alexander !  "  exclaimed  Myrtis. 

"  I  will  hear  all  in  good  time,"  replied  Captain  Bar- 


170  THE  m'donalds  ; 

tow ;  "  but  meanwhile  I  must  limp  out  to  seek  for  some 
means  by  whicli  I  may  rescue  you  from  that  vampire 
Casbmore.  I  am  very  sure  that  the  bloodhound  is  with 
Sherman's  army,  and  has  learned  where  you  arc — at  least 
that  you  are  in  Columbia." 

He  had  barely  strength  to  move  about  upon  his  wound- 
ed limb,  and  its  broken  bones  had  not  sufficiently  knitted 
together  to  allow  him  to  use  haste.  Yet  in  his  eagerness 
to  seek  some  means  of  retreat  for  his  friends,  he  tripped  at 
the  head  of  the  stairs,  fell  hea^^ly,  and  not  only  broke  his 
shattered  limb  again,  but  fainted  from  the  agony  of  his 
hurt. 

He  lay  so  pale,  so  white,  so  still,  so  ghastly  at  the  foot 
of  the  stairs  that  old  Myra,  who  was  in  the  hall  below  when 
he  fell,  cried  out : 

"  He's  killed !  Poor  Massa  Frank  done  clean  dead ! 
Dat  cloud  ob  smoke  dat  swallowed  him  up  in  Atlanta 
done  prove  tme." 

The  ladies,  who  had  attempted  in  vain  to  arrest  his  fall, 
hastened  to  his  assistance. 

"  He  is  not  dead,  he  has  swooned  !  "  said  Mrs.  M'Don- 
ald. 

"  Oh,  mother !  remember  his  broken  limb ! "  cried 
Myrtis,  as  she  swept  the  dark  curls  from  the  pale  brow. 

Mrs.  Huger  called  to  her  servants  to  aid  her  in  placing 
the  unfortunate  officer  upon  a  sofa  in  the  hall,  while  Myra 
hurried  to  procure  a  surgeon.     She  was  successful  in  meet- 


OK,    THE    ASHES   OF    SOUTHEKN    HOMES.  171 

ing  one  upon  the  street,  one  she  recognized  as  an  old 
Atlanta  acquaintance,  and  he  hastened  to  aid  the  woUnded 
man  as  soon  as  he  learned  that  it  was  his  friend,  Captain 
Frank  Bartow. 

The  young  officer  was  soon  restored  to  consciousness, 
and  the  broken  Kmb  reset  under  the  practised  hands  of  the 
suro-eon.     He  opened  his  eyes  rather  wildly  at  first,  but . 
soon  recognized  his  situation. 

"  Ah,  Doctor  Dannelly,  I  have  had  an  unlacky  fall, 
especially  at  this  time.  I  was  about  to  go  out  to  find 
means  to  convey  these  ladies  from  the  city — " 

"You  would  have  failed,  my  dear  fellow,"  replied 
Doctor  Dannelly,  "  unless  you  carried  your  weight  in  gold 
with  you." 

"And  can  nothing  be  done — " 

"It   is   out  of  the  question  now,  Frank,"   whispered 
Myrtis.     "  You  cannot   be  moved  in  your  present  condi- 
tion, and  I  will  never  leave  you  unattended." 
"  But  Mrs.  Huger,  and  your  mother — " 
"No  matter,  Frank,"  was  the  resolute  reply.     "My 
place  is  by  your  side,  and  unless  you  drive  me  away,  I 
will  remain   in  Columbia.     Suppose  they  were  to  fire  Co- 
lumbia !  who  would  be  so  watchful  over  your  safety  as  I  ?" 
Captain  Bartow  smiled,  despite  his  pain,  at  the  earnest- 
ness of  the  young  lady,  but  urged  both  her  and  her  mother 
to  depart  immediately.     Tlie  ladies  were  fii-m  in  their  pur- 
pose, Myrtis  saying : 


172  THE  m'donalds  ; 

"It  may  be  probable  tbat  Seth  Cashmore  is  with  the 
Federal  army,  but  it  is  still  more  probable  that  Major 
L-ving  is  also  there,  and  I  know  lie  will  protect  us  from 
that  wretch." 

"  His  protection  did  not  help  us  in  Newton  County," 
replied  Mrs.  M'Donald,  bitterly.  "Eut  I  do  not  blame 
gallant  Major  Ir\dng  for  that ;  his  purpose  was  noble,  and 
he  did  what  he  could." 

"  I  must  leave  you,  my  friends,"  remarked  Dr.  Dan- 
nelly,  "  as  my  duties  demand  my  presence  elsewhere ;"  and 
after  giving  some  medical  advice  regarding  the  wounded 
officer,  he  bowed  and  departed. 

The  sen-ants  of  Mrs.  Huger,  who  remained  faithful  to 
her,  moved  the  sofa  with  the  officer  to  a  room  near  the 
hall,  where,  but  for  the  solicitous  attention  of  the  ladies, 
he  would  probably  have  suffered  much  in  reflecting  upon 
his  fortunes. 

"  I  advise  you,  Mrs.  M'Donald,  and  you,  Myrtis,  not  to 
show  yourselves  at  the  doors  or  windows,  or  you  may  be 
seen  by  Cashmore,  or  some  of  his  friends.  Old  Myra,  too, 
must  remain  indoors,"  said  Captain  Bartow,  during  the 
day ;  and  this  advice  was  decided  to  be  very  prudent. 

The  day  wore  away,  the  city  was  abandoned  by  the 
Confederate  forces,  and  the  events  and  scenes  reminded 
Mrs.  M'Donald  greatly  of  the  evacuation,  under  similar  cir- 
cumstances, of  Atlanta.  At  night  she  ascended  to  the  top 
of  the  house,  upon  which  was  a  small  observatory,  from 


OR, 


1Y3 


wliich  the  whole  city  and  much  of  the  surrounding  country- 
could  be  seen. 

There  seemed  to  he,  and  douhtless  was,  a  cloud  of 
universal  gloom  upon  the  fated  capital.  All  knew  that  a 
hostile  and  victorious  army  was  massed  upon  the  banks  of 
the  Broad,  the  Saluda,  and  the  Congaree  rivers ;  and  the 
history  of  the  sufferings  of  Georgia,  and  that  portion  of 
South  Carolina  lying  between  Charleston  and  Columbia, 
was  well  known  in  the  city.  The  ominous  booming  of  the 
enemy's  cannon  had  been  heard  all  day,  and  many  shells 
had  been  thrown  into  the  city,  especially  in  the  vicinity  of 
the  railroad  depot,  <'  to  scatter  the  people,"  says  page  45 
of  General  Sherman's  official  report,  "  loho  were  seen  carry- 
ing away  sacks  of  corn  and  meal  that  loe  needed  !  " 

It  is  to  be  supposed  that  "  the  people  "  here  mentioned 
were  famishing  women  and  children,  as  well  as  a  few  starv- 
ing plunderers ;  but  the  right  or  the  might  of  war  ever 
ignores  and  tramples  upon  the  rights  and  necessities  of  the 
people,  especially  when  the  people  are  "  rebels,"  and,  there- 
fore, by  the  edict  of  the  merciless  radicals,  ''  without  any 
right,  save  the  right  to  live,  and  that  only  at  the  option  of 
the  victors ! " 

Mrs.  M'Donald  felt  her  widowed  and  saddened  heart 
grow  still  more  sorrowful,  as  she  listened  to  the  various 
subdued  sounds  of  terror  hovering  over  the  city,  and  as 
she  noticed  the  reddened  sky  in  the  direction  of  the  hos- 
tile army.     That  lurid  light,  she  well  knew,  spoke  of  the 


iTtl:  THE   MCDONALDS  ; 

destruction  of  conquered  Southera  homes,  and  her  ex- 
perienced mind  could  easily  depict  the  sharp  miseries  of 
those  unfortunate  South  Carohnians  who  were  suffering  the 
same  dread  horrors  which  had  heaped  the  soil  of  Georgia 
with  ashes,  and  driven  thousands  of  her  helpless  citizens 
homeless  and  penniless  from  "  thoroughly  stripped  planta- 
tions." 

We  will  not  pause  to  attempt  to  describe  the  feelings 
of  the  unfortunate  lady,  whose  high  and  pure  devotion  to 
her  helpless  country  caused  her  to  feel  as  keenly  the  calam- 
ities of  the  South  as  she  did  her  own. 

"  May  Heaven  have  mercy  upon  this  city ! ''  she  mur- 
mured, as  she  left  the  observatory .  "  She  is  delivered  into 
the  hands  of  the  spoiler,  and  he  will  be  pitiless." 

On  the  following  morning  the  mayor  of  Columbia  went 
out  to  meet  the  Federal  advance,  and  formally  surrendered 
the  beautiful  capital  of  South  Carolina,  and  soon  after  the 
hostile  columns  began  to  pour  into  the  conquered  city.  It 
was  a  clear  and  brilliant  day,  though  a  strong  wind  was 
blowing  with  all  the  fury  of  a  tempest.  It  is  not  our  place 
here  to  discuss  by  whose  orders  the  capital  was  fired  ;  that 
question  is  still  fiercely  disputed  ;  we  know  that  it  was  de- 
voted to  the  flames,  whether  by  accident,  or  by  the  orders 
of  the  conqueror.  The  burning  of  Columbia  is  but  an  ac- 
companiment of  our  story,  and  we  leave  its  origin  to  the 
decision  of  those  better  infonned.  We  have  it,  however, 
from  the  pen  of  the  commander-in-chief  of  the  invading 


OR,   THE    ASHES   OF    SOUTHEEN    HOMES.  175 

army,  that  after  the  fire  had  begun,  "  imprisoned  Federal 
officers,  rescued  by  the  aiiny,  may  have  assisted  in  spread- 
ing the  flames,  and  may  have  indulged  in  unconcealed  joy 
to  see  the  ruin  of  the  capital  of  South  Carolina  !  " 

Mr.  Seth  Cashmore,  who  was  among  the  first  to  enter 
the  city,  did  not  hesitate  to  gratify  his  plundering  and  de- 
structive propensities.  His  former  friend  and  accomplice 
in  villany,  the  valiant  Captain  Tom  FlasMll,  was  no  longer 
with  him ;  for  that  great  "  bummer  "  had  been  called  to 
strict  account  by  Major  Trving's  insulted  lieutenant,  Giles  ; 
and  went  suddenly  to  his  final  account  with  a  bullet  in  his 
brain,  placed  there  by  the  hand  of  the  lieutenant  when 
they  met  in  Savannah. 

Mr.  Seth  Cashmore  was  quite  pleased  to  be  rid  of  his 
ferocious  comrade,  whose  grasping  hand  and  insatiate  ava- 
rice had  plucked  many  a  glittering  rebel  prize  from  the 
cowardly  speculator.  But  the  latter,  urged  by  an  avenging 
fate,  instead  of  quietly  withdrawing  from  the  army,  and 
hastening  to  the  North,  to  cheat  his  fellows  by  the  laws  of 
trade,  remained  with  the  Federal  host,  and  accompanied  it 
to  Columbia.  He  had  heard,  as  had  many  others,  that  the 
rich  citizens  of  Charleston,  and  of  the  State  in  general,  had 
sent  all  their  gold  and  silver  plate,  jewels,  and  other  valu- 
ables of  small  bulk,  to  Columbia,  as  a  place  of  perfect  secu- 
rity. He  had  heard  that  all  this  wealth  was  hidden  and 
buried  in  that  city,  and  he  saw  himself  digging  it  up,  hunt- 
ing it  out,  filling  great  trunks  with  rich  gold  and  silver 


176  THE   MCDONALDS  ; 

plate,  and  cramming  his  deep  pockets  with  diamonds  and 
precious  stones — the  property  of  those  lordly  families  whose 
very  names  he  hated. 

Therefore,  Mr.  Seth  Cashraore  was  among  the  first  to 
honor  the  prostrate  State  capital  with  his  agreeable  pres- 
ence. Tliere  were  many  fires  during  the  day,  in  various 
parts  of  the  city,  and  Cashmore  had  pretty  good  luck  in 
adding  to  his  accumulations,  as  he  assisted  in  plundering  a 
few  churches,  and  several  private  houses.  But  it  was  near- 
ly night  when  the  flames  which  "  may  have  been  aided  " 
by  those  "  rescued  oflBcers,"  began  to  spread  in  every  direc- 
tion, and  then  the  speculator  was  quite  at  home. 

He  had  a  strong  suspicion  that  the  M'Donalds  were  in 
the  city,  and  he  would  have  been  hugely  delighted  to  know 
the  exact  spot  where  he  might  find  them.  He  trusted  to 
his  great  luck,  as  he  tei-med  his  career  of  successful  villany, 
to  aid  him  in  burninfi:  them  out  before  morninor. 

The  flames,  aided  by  the  strong  wind,  and  by  hundreds 
of  incendiary  hands,  had  taken  fatal  hold  upon  the  vitals 
of  the  city  long  before  midnight,  and  "  became  totally  un- 
manageable," says  the  oflBcial  report. 

In  the  mean  time,  old  Myra,  whose  curiosity  and  ten*or 
were  too  gi-eat  to  suffer  her  to  remain  within  doors,  had 
ventured  upon  the  street ;  and  being  attracted  by  the  glare 
of  burning  houses,  bewildered  by  terrified  families,  and  for- 
getful of  every  thing  except  the  temble  scenes  around  her, 
had  wandered  far  away  from  the  residence  of  Mrs.  Huger, 


1Y7 

wliicli  was,  as  yet,  unmeiiacecl  by  the  flames,  until  she  sud- 
denly encountered  Major  (now  Colonel)  Irving. 

That  high-minded  officer  was  at  the  head  of  his  regi- 
ment, using  all  his  power  of  intellect,  energy,  and  position, 
to  subdue  the  fury  of  the  conflagration,  and  to  rescue  help- 
less women  and  children.  Those  who  witnessed  the  hor- 
rors of  that  dreadful  night,  when  so  many  hundreds  of 
Southern  homes  became  ashes  at  one  fell  swoop,  relate 
heart-sickening  details  of  the  cruelty  and  ferocity  of  many 
of  the  invaders.  They  tell  of  terrified  ladies,  from  whose 
delicate  hands  were  torn  such  articles  of  clothing  or  furni- 
ture as  they  had  saved  from  the  flames,  and  that  men  in  blue 
cast  into  the  fire,  even  the  garments  of  children,  and  the 
bedding  of  houseless  families ;  and  universal  report,  from 
thousands  who  witnessed  and  suffered  that  nio-ht,  and  the 
two  days  following,  declares  that  the  Federal  troops  in  many, 
many  instances,  acted  with  a  fury  and  malice  almost  de- 
moniacal. 

Colonel  Irving  was  not  one  of  these  white  savages,  but 
a  true  specimen  of  the  noble-hearted  American  citizen, 
when  the  soul  has  not  become  shrivelled  and  warped  by 
sectional  hate  and  political  malignity.  He,  and  men  like 
him,  made  no  war  upon  women  and  unoffending  citizens. 
He  held  a  position  of  power,  and  he  as  well  as  others  in  the 
Federal  army  used  that  power  to  protect  the  defenceless. 
Had  not  spirits  like  his  existed  in  that  great  and  trium- 
phant army,  it  is  very  probable,  nav,  it  is  a  certainty,  that 
8* 


178  THE  m'donalds; 

not  a  bingle  house  in  the  capital  of  South  Carohna  would 
have  been  spared. 

Mounted  upon  a  powerful  horse,  he  rode  from  place  to 
place  as  his  presence  was  demanded,  and  it  was  while  paus- 
ing for  a  moment  to  give  hasty  orders,  that  old  Myra  recog- 
nized him,  and  shouted  his  name  aloud. 

He  turned  quickly,  and  a  kind  smile  of  recognition 
lighted  up  his  handsome  face,  as  he  was  about  to  address 
her,  when  his  glance  fell  upon  Seth  Cashmore,  peering 
closely  into  old  Myra's  agitated  visage. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE      LAST      OF     CASHMORE. 

The  eager  speculator,  delighted  to  stumble  upon  the 
old  negress,  grasped  her  fiercely  by  the  throat,  resolved  to 
choke  speedy  information  from  her. 

"  Ha !  old  black  devil ! "  he  cried.  "  Have  I  caught 
you  again  ?     Eh !  curse  you,  if  you  do  not  lead  me — " 

He  had  proceeded  thus  far  when  a  sabre  gleamed  over 
his  head,  and  fell  sharply  against  his  cheek,  shearing  off  an 
ear  close  to  his  skull.  He  roared  with  rage  and  pain, 
freed  the  negress,  and  looking  up,  recognized  the  indignant 
face  and  burning  eyes  of  Colonel  IrN^ng. 


179 


"  Scoundrel ! "  cried  tlie  colonel,  again  raising  his  sword, 
"  fellows  like  you  are  unfit  to  live." 

Mr.  Cashmore  held  firmly  to  the  opposite  opinion,  and 
proved  it  by  darting  into  the  crowd,  in  which  he  was  soon 
swallowed  up ;  yet,  though  both  the  negress  and  the  Fed- 
eral lost  sight  of  him,  he  was  exceedingly  careful  to  keep 
them  in  view. 

Colonel  Irving  learned  with  keen  regret  that  the  M'Don- 
alds  were  in  Columbia,  and  ordered  Myra  to  hasten  to  con- 
duct him  to  them.  This  was  now  out  of  her  power,  for, 
bewildered  by  the  roar  and  glare  around  her,  as  well  as 
confused  by  the  late  attack  of  Cashmore,  she  could  only 
gape  and  whirl,  unable  to  act  as  a  guide. 

"At  whose  house  are  the  ladies?"  demanded  the 
colonel. 

"  Missus  Huger's,  massa  officer !  Missus  William 
Huger's — de  Lor'  hab  marcy  on  all  creation ! "  screamed 
Myra,  as  a  great  spark  of  fire  fell  upon  her  neck.  ,  "All 
dis  done  come  of  freein'  de  black  fokes !  " 

"  Mrs.  William  Huger's  ?  I  know  where  that  is,"  re- 
plied Colonel  Irving,  galloping  away.  But  he  slackened 
his  speed  as  he  looked  back  and  saw  the  negress  running 
after  him. 

"  Push  on,  massa,  push  on  !  "    cried  she.      "  Nebber 
mind  dis  chile.     Make  haste,  massa,  for  de  whole    city  , 
agwine  to  be  burned  down,  and  Massa  Frank,  he  dar  wid 
all  his  legs  and  arms  broke !     Push  on — I  knows  de  way 
now,  sah." 


180  THE  m'donalds  ; 

Yielding  to  the  importunity  of  Myra,  tlic  oflSccr  spurred 
on,  and  in  a  few  minutes  dismounted  before  the  house  of 
Mrs.  linger.  The  flames  had  not  reached  that  quarter  of 
the  city,  nor  was  tliere  any  probability  that  they  would, 
unless  incendiary  hands  should  ply  the  torch. 

"  I  fear  the  whole  city  will  be  laid  in  ashes,"  mused  the 
Federal,  as  he  paused  for  a  moment  upon  the  front  steps  of 
the  house,  and  listened  to  the  distant  roar  of  shouting 
thousands.  "If  Columbia  be  destroyed,  eternal  infamy 
will  rest  upon  our  arms.  An  evacuated,  surrendered,  de- 
fenceless city  laid  in  ashes  by  xVmerican  soldiers  !  This 
will  indeed  be  a  disgrace  and  a  reproach." 

Turning  quickly,  for  it  was  no  time  for  reflection,  he 
entered  the  house,  and  perceiving  a  light  shining  from  an 
open  door,  hastened  toward  it. 

Frank  Bartow,  near  whom  were  gathered  aU  the  ladies 
of  the  house,  heard  the  firm  and  martial  tread  as  it  ap- 
proached. The  wounded  Confederate's  pale  cheek  grew  a 
shade  paler ;  not  with  fear,  for  he  had  too  often  faced  death 
to  blanch  at  its  commg,  but  with  dread  for  the  fate  of  those 
helpless  females,  whose  only  protector  was  now  a  prostrate 
and  shattered  man.  His  grasp  grew  fierce  upon  the  butt 
of  his  repeater,  and  raising  himself  on  his  elbow  he  fixed 
his  steady  gaze  upon  the  open  door.  He  could  die  but 
once,  and  he  had  resolved  to  sell  his  life  dearly.  His  ex- 
perience in  that  ensanguined  war  had  taught  him  that 
"  wounded  rebels  "  were  sometimes  bayoneted  to  death. 


OK,    THE   ASHES    OF    SOUTHERN    HOMES.  181 

Colonel  Irving  entered  speedily,  and  as  he  did  so  the 
levelled  repeater  of  the  Confederate  confronted  him,  cover- 
ing with  its  steady,  unerring  aim  the  centre  of  his  forehead. 

"Halt!"  cried  Bartow,  the  instant  he  recognized  the 
Federal  unifonn.     "  You  have  come  far  enough." 

The  young  colonel  halted,  yet  his  eye  and  features  re- 
mained calm,  while  a  haughty  smile,  partly  of  anger,  partly 
of  defiance  curled  his  lip.  He  had  not  time  to  speak  when 
Mrs.  M'Donald  rushed  before  the  levelled  pistol,  exclaiming : 

"  Frank !  It  is  Major  Irving,  our  defender !  " 

Bartow  instantly  lowered  his  weapon,  and  a  deep  flush 
of  shame  for  a  moment  darkened  his  brow  and  cheek,  but 
in  a  moment  he  said,  in  a  hearty  tone  : 

**  Colonel  Irving  must  be  sure  that  I  can  intend  no  at- 
tack upon  one  whose  generosity  has  protected  many  unfor- 
tunates of  ray  country.  Colonel,  Captain  Frank  Bartow  is 
happy  to  be  your  prisoner,  since  prisoner  he  must  be." 

The  Federal  colonel,  whose  heart  was  as  noble  as  his 
courage  was  high,  detected  a  latent  bitterness  even  in  the 
hearty  tone  used  by  the  Confederate  captain,  and  replied : 

"  I  did  not  come  here,  captain,  to  make  prisoners,  but 
to  save  life,  and  to  protect  private  property.  I  have  just 
learned  that  my  esteemed  friends,  these  ladies,  were  here, 
and  I  come  to  assure  them  of  my  protection  and  aid,  so 
far  as  either  lies  in  my  power." 

"We  expected  no  less  of  Colonel  Irving,"  said  Miss 
M'Donald,  warmly,  as  she  gave  her  hand  to  the  officer. 


182  THE   MCDONALDS; 

An  animated  exchange  of  compliments  and  opinions 
followed,  and  was  quickly  ended  by  a  remark  of  the  colonel, 
who  said : 

"  Keep  your  weapon,  Captain  Bartow — at  least  until 
my  return,  as  you  may  need  it.  A  bitter  enemy  of  yom*s 
and  of  these  ladies  is  in  the  city — " 

"Ah  !  the  wretch  Scth  Cashraore  !  "  exclaimed  Myrtis, 
shuddering  as  she  remembered  the  bnital  vindictivcness  of 
the  speculator. 

"  Yes,  Miss  M'Donald,"  continued  Colonel  Irving,  "  I 
am  sorry  to  say  that  Cashmore  is  in  the  city,  and  I  need 
not  warn  you  that  there  are  many  spirits  like  his  at  his 
command — " 

"  The  fierce  Flaskill  ?  "  asked  Myrtis. 

"  Oh,  he  is  dead,  but  I  fear  there  are  many  like  him, 
boon  and  sworn  companions  of  this  fellow  Cashmore,  so  I 
will  huny  to  lead  or  send  a  detachment  from  my  regiment 
to  keep  guard  around  this  block  of  buildings,  and  to  see 
that  you  are  not  molested.  To-morrow  we  may  be  able 
to  do  more." 

The  generous-hearted  Northerner  did  not  remain  to 
receive  the  shower  of  thanks  which  was  his  due,  but  hurried 
away  to  the  street  and  sprang  into  his  saddle. 

"  I  must  make  haste,"  he  thought,  as  he  observed  the 
increased  glare  and  nearness  of  the  flames.  "  Many  new 
fires  have  broken  out  since  I  left  the  street.  Good  Heaven ! 
can  this  deed  be  by  the  command  of  General  Sherman !  " 


OK,   THE    ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN   HOMES.  183 

Witli  this  question  stinging  liis  mind,  Colonel  Irving 
spun-ed  his  horse  toward  that  quarter  of  the  city  where 
he  expected  to  find  his  regiment. 

That  question  has  stung  many  minds  since  the  deed 
was  done.  Now  that  the  war  is  over,  the  world  is  aghast 
with  horror  and  rebuke  as  it  contemplates  the  havoc  made 
by  Sherman's  army  as  it  swept  through  defenceless  Georgia 
and  South  Carolina;  and  the  burning  of  Columbia  seems 
but  in  dramatic  keeping  with  the  terrible  tragedy  in  which 
he  who  was  the  "star"  of  the  mfernal  perfomance  de- 
clared—"  I  would  blush  for  shame  if  I  had  ever  insulted 

or  struck  a  fallen  foe ! " 

How  far  his  fame  may  prove  his  veracity,  posterity  will 
decide.  The  smoke  still  rises  from  the  ashes  of  the  South, 
and  the  time  has  not  come  when  all  the  world  shall  know 
"  who  burned  Columbia." 

No  sooner  had  the  sounds  of  Colonel  Irving's 
rapid  departure  died  away  from  the  vicinity  of  Mrs. 
Huger's  mansion,  than  the  ill-omened  visage  of  Seth  Cash- 
more  showed  itself  from  the  shadow  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  street.  He  had  followed  Myra  as  she  hurried  home- 
ward, and,  having  dogged  her  to  the  house,  fell  back  into 
concealment  as  he  recognized  Colonel  Irving's  horse. 

He  waited  patiently  until  he  saw  that  officer  depart. 
He  crossed-the  street  with  rapid  strides,  his  eyes  sparkling 
with  anticipated  revenge  ,ind  gratified  malice,  and  his  ugly 
face  distorted  with  rage,  pain,  and  devilish  triumph.     His 


184 


ear,  or  where  the  ear  had  been,  smarted  keenly,  but  not 
more  than  his  vindictive  soul  as  he  remembered  the  rejec- 
tion and  scorn  of  his  suit.  Chance,  long  hoped  for,  had 
at  length  placed  those  detested  M'Donalds  within  his 
reach,  and  Seth  Cashmore  was  not  a  man  to  feel  the 
slightest  scruple  in  using  his  power  even  to  the  completion 
of  the  basest  purposes. 

"  They  are  in  this  house,  no  doubt,"  he  thought,  as  he 
paused  at  the  door.  "  Irving  has  been  here  to  promise 
them  his  protection,  and  he  will  soon  return  with  a  guard. 
But  it  will  take  all  of  half  an  hour  to  bring  his  men  up, 
and  in  that  half  an  hour — well,  Seth  Cashmore  can  do  a 
great  deal  to  humble  the  haughty  Myrtis  M'Donald  in  that 
time.  As  for  her  mother — well,  I  think  I  could  shoot  that 
insulting  old  woman  as  readily  as  look  at  her." 

Seth  Cashmore  set  his  teeth  hard,  and  his  heart  throb- 
bed with  savage  exultation  as  he  turned  the  knob  and 
strode  in. 

He  had  not  taken  three  steps  into  the  hall  when  Mrs. 
M'Donald  advanced  toward  him,  bearing  a  candle.  The 
rays  were  reflected  by  his  glittering  buttons,  and  for  an 
instant  she  thouorht  he  was  Colonel  Irvino*. 

"  Back  so  soon.  Colonel  Irviiig — "  she  began,  but 
checking  her  speech  as  she  recogiiized  the  brutish  features 
and  protruding  eyes  of  the  half-drunken  speculator. 

"  Your  servant,  madam,"  cried  Cashmore,  with  a  hoarse 
laugh  of  derisioUj  and  drawing  liis  sword  to  terrify  the  un- 
daunted lady.     "  You  know  me  now  !  " 


OK,   THE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN    HOMES.  185 


"You  are  Seth  Caslimore,"  replied  the  widow,  in  a 
loud  and  clear  tone,  meant  to  warn  Captain  Bartow — 
"you  are  Setli  Caslimore,  and  you  are  treading  upon 
dangerous  ground.  I  warn  you  in  time.  Go,  tlie  door  is 
behind  you." 

"Oh  yes,  old  lady,"  roared  Cashmore,  feeding  his 
courage  with  a  tremendous  oath,  the  foulest,  most  blas- 
phemous he  could  muster,  "  you  ordered  me  out  of  your 
house  in  Atlanta,  and  I  went,  but  I'm  lord  and  master 
here.  Where  is  your  dainty  daughter,  eh  ?  She  and  I 
must  have  a  word  together.  Out  of  my  way,  or  I'll  cut 
you  down ! " 

He  raised  and  flourished  his  sword  as  he  spoke,  and 
Mrs.  M'Donald  saw  murder  flashing  in  his  fierce  eyes.  She 
grew  very  pale,  perhaps  less  with  fear  than  for  what  she 
knew  would  come,  and  said,  still  in  that  loud,  clear  tone : 

"  You  insist  upon  seeing  my  daughter  ?  You  will 
have  no  mercy — no  pity,  Seth  Cashmore?" 

"  Mercy  ?  Pity  ?  I  will  teach  you  what  mercy  I  give. 
Out  of  my  way,  old  fool !  " 

"Go  on,"  she  said,  moving  aside,  and  pointing  tow- 
ard the  room  occupied  by  Captain  Bartow.  "  You  will 
find  my  daughter  in  that  room." 

He  thought,  simpleton,  that  his  threats  and  ferocious 
looks  had  appalled  her,  and,  striding  by,  hurried  to  force 
his  hateful  presence  upon  his  intended  victim.  He  had 
reached  the  open  door,  had  faced  inward  to  enter,  when  the 


186  THE   MCDONALDS  ; 

sLarp  cract  of  Bartow's  repeater,  and  a  deep,  painful  slash 
across  his  cheek  told  him  there  were  still  "  rebel  bullets" 
ready  to  defend  "  rebel  maidens." 

The  pistol  cracked  again,  and  Cashmore's  right  arm  fell 
shattered  to  his  side.  He  stayed  no  longer  to  be  a  target 
for  such  salutes,  especially  as  he  recognized  the  flaming 
eyes  of  Frank  Bartow  gleaming  through  the  smoke,  but, 
yelling  with  pain  and  terror,  wheeled  and  rushed  from  the 
house. 

Safe  in  the  street  his  desire  for  instant  revenge  returned, 
A  drunken  soldier,  perhaps  one  of  "  the  rescued  officers," 
was  staggering  along,  torch  in  hand  and  bellowing,  "  Rally 
'round  the  flag,  boys  !  "  as  he  swung  tbe  blazing  pine  above 
his  head.  Seth  Cashmore  snatched  the  torch  with  his  left 
hand,  for  his  right  aim  was  broken,  and  shouting  to  other 
stragglers  whose  flambeaux  told  of  their  deeds,  began  to 
fire  the  square,  rushing  from  house  to  house,  and  sparing 
none. 

In  this  be  bad  no  lack  of  imitators,  and  the  whole 
square  of  buildings,  with  the  exception  of  that  of  Mrs. 
Huger,  was  soon  in  flames.  That,  too,  would  have  been 
fired,  but  for  the  sudden  amval  of  five  men  of  living's  regi- 
ment, who  repulsed  all  who  attempted  to  enter  the  house. 

Cashmore,  drunken  with  rage,  pain,  and  brandy,  did 
not  forget  to  plunder  as  he  plied  his  torch,  and  finding  it 
very  difficult  to  rob  and  snatch  with  a  blazing  brand  in  his 
hand,  soon  cast  it  aside,  leaving  the  burning  to  be  done  by 


OE,   THE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHEEN   HOMES.  187 

others.  In  pillaging  a  house  already  in  flames,  his  greedy 
nature  led  him  to  the  highest  story,  where  he  consumed 
some  time  in  breaking  open  a  trunk  which  he  believed 
contained  gold,  plate,  or  jewelry. 

He  was  disappointed,  and  cursing  the  poverty  or  cun- 
ning of  "  the  rebels,"  turned  to  retrace  his  steps  to  the 
street,  as  the  room  had  already  become  filled  with  smoke. 
When  he  reached  the  head  of  the  stairs  he  found  them 
wrapped  in  angry  flames — red,  crackling,  fiercely-moving 
flames — which  seemed  to  leap  with  triumph  at  his  entrap- 
ping. 

To  descend  was  impossible.  He  leaned  over  the  hall 
balustrade  and  gazed  downward.  Nothing  met  his  strain- 
ing sight  except  rushing,  roaring,  momiting  fire,  from  whose 
red  tongues  rolled  upward  a  sufibcating  smoke,  hot  and 
stifling  as  the  breath  of  devils. 

He  must  go  up.  There  was  a  small  step-ladder,  leading 
to  a  trap-door  which  opened  upon  the  roof,  and  he  sprang 
to  that  with  the  activity  of  wildest  terror.  He  reached  the 
roof,  and  filled  his  parched  lungs  with  deep  draughts  of  the 
night  wind.  He  thought  he  was  safe,  with  nothing  before 
him  but  the  simple  feat  of  clambering  from  that  roof  to  the 
next,  the  one  on  his  left,  for  that  on  his  right  was  already 
in  flames. 

It  was  no  easy  matter  to  climb  along  that  sharp  roof- 
top with  a  broken  arm,  and  faint  from  loss  of  blood.  But 
he  could  do  it,  must  do  it,  and  reach  the  eaves  of  the 


188  THE  m'donalds  ; 

adjoining  house.  There  was  no  time  for  delay,  for  already 
the  flames  from  which  he  had  fled,  were  darting  angrily 
through  the  sky-light,  as  if  looking  for  him,  hunting  him 
down,  hungry  to  devour  him. 

He  moved  on,  slowly  and  painfully,  his  shattered  arm 
swinging  in  torture  at  his  side.  He  raved  and  cursed  ;  he 
shouted  for  help;  shouted  an  incoherent  prayer;  then 
blasphemed ;  hoped,  despaired,  died  a  thousand  deaths  in 
straggling  to  save  one  miserable,  pernicious  life.  But  still 
he  moved  on,  the  roof  growing  hot  beneath  his  wide- 
stretched  limbs  and  unwieldy  body,  while  pufis  of  smoke 
began  to  shoot  from  among  the  warping  shingles.  He 
writhed  on,  half  choked  by  the  dense  masses  of  smoke  now 
and  then  borne  down  upon  him  by  the  wind.  From  his 
lofty  perch  he  had  a  rare  view  of  the  burning  capital.  As 
far  as  his  eye  could  reach,  north,  east,  south,  and  west,  on 
every  side,  rose  the  red  and  glaring  ministers  of  Federal 
vengeance.  He  could  hear  the  shouts  of  those  who  vainly 
tried  to  check  the  advance  of  those  fire-warriors  of  Sher- 
manic  conquest ;  the  cheers  of  those  who  fed  the  flames ; 
the  yells  of  a  wild,  half-mad,  infuriated  soldiery,  waging 
sharp  war  under  the  dread  banner  of  "  relentless  de\  asta- 
tion  ! "  He  heard  the  shrill  screams  of  terrified  women, 
the  sharper  shrieks  of  homeless  children,  none  the  less 
shrill,  sharp,  and  heart-rending  because  they  rose  from  the 
lips  of  "  rebels ;  "  for  God  gave  even  "  rebels "  hearts  to 
bleed  and  souls  to  despair — a  fact  of  which  no  note  was 


OR,   THE   ASHES   OP   SOUTHERN   HOMES.  189 


taken  in  tliat  order  for  "  relentless  devastation  !  " — a  fact 
ignored  by  Stevens,  Butler,  and  other  gentle-hearted  beings 
whom  courtesy  calls  human. 

Seth  Caslimore  had  a  rare  view  of  blazing  Columbia, 
and  no  doubt,  under  other  circumstances  he  might  have 
rubbed  his  greasy  palms,  rolled  his  exultant  eyes,  and  licked 
his  lips  witli  all  the  infernal  gusto  of  a  Lloyd  Garrison, 
revelling  in  a  dream  of  universal  negro  insurrection  and 
abolition  destruction.  But  as  it  was,  he  saw  nothing  to 
admire,  except  the  decreasing  distance  between  himself  and 
the  next  roof. 

He  had  almost  reached  it,  had  shouted  with  joy,  as  lie 
extended  his  unwounded  arm  to  clutch  the  eaves,  when,  as 
if  by  magic,  all  that  roof  sank  down — sank  so  suddenly, 
that  his  hand  remained  outstretched,  grasping  at  the 
empty  air — sank  down  with  a  great  puff,  almost  a  roar, 
and  then  a  volcano  seemed  to  rush  straight  up  from  where 
it  had  been. 

"  Better  be  dashed  to  pieces  than  be  burned  to  death  ! " 
groaned  the  miserable  wretch,  as  he  recoiled  from  the 
dreadful  heat  which  swept  upward  like  a  sirocco  from  the 
hottest  pit  of  the  infernal. 

So  sudden,  so  intense  had  been  that  breath  of  fire,  that 
his  hair  and  beard  were  crisped  to  his  blistered  scalp  and 
skin,  and  unable  to  endure  the  horrible  torture,  he  toppled 
over  si  do  wise,  hoping  to  roll  from  the  roof  and  be  dashed 
to  instant  death  upon  the  pavement  far  below. 


190  THE   MCDONALDS; 

But  fate,  as  if  resolved  to  give  the  wretch  a  foretaste  of 
the  doom  he  so  richly  merited,  thrust  a  spike  iu  his  gar- 
ments as  he  rolled  from  the  eaves,  and  thus  suspended  him 
in  mid-air. 

He  was  seen  by  those  below,  writhing  and  twisting  like 
a  worm  on  a  hook.  A  mass  of  smoke  shut  him  from  view, 
the  walls  of  the  blazing  house  fell  suddenly  inward,  and 
that  was  the  last  ever  known  of  Mr.  Seth  Cashmore. 

His  bones  and  flesh  went  to  swell  that  great  heap  of 
the  ashes  of  Southern  homes  which  he  had  been  a  very 
demon  in  aiding  to  make,  and  doubtless  his  soul  fled  to  its 
apjDointed  place. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


CONCLUSION. 


We  hardly  need  state  that  the  vigorous  exertions  of 
Colonel  Irving  rescued  all  within  the  house  of  Mrs.  Huger 
from  the  flames. 

The  destruction  of  Columbia  was  soon  followed  by  the 
surrender  of  the  veteran  armies  of  Lee  and  Johnston.  The 
short-lived  and  meteoiic  star  of  the  Southern  Cross  sank  as 
suddenly  as  it  had  risen,  and  the  so-called  peace  having 
been  declared,  the  M'Donalds  returned  to  devastated, 
smouldering;  Georo-ia. 


OR,   THE   ASHES   OF   SOUTHERN   HOMES.  191 

The  war  Lad  left  them,  here  and  there,  in  that  unfortu- 
nate State,  a  few  acres  of  barren  land,  marked  with  heaps 
of  ashes  of  what  had  once  been  happy  Southern  homes. 
The  widow  sold  these  sad  acres,  poor  relics  of  her  once 
great  wealth,  as  Captain  Frank  Bartow,  now  the  husband 
of  the  gentle  Myrtis,  sold  his  scanty  fields ;  and  with  their 
joint  means  they  have  erected  a  new  Southern  home,  which 
we  fervently  pray  may  never  be  made  ashes  by  the  flames 
of  civil  or  foreign  war. 

Old  Myra,  faithful  follower  of  her  mistress,  has  an  hum- 
ble home  of  her  own  upon  the  land  of  Frank  Bartow,  and 
though  in  the  parlor  of  the  statelier  mansion  of  her  young 
mistress  there  hangs  a  splendid  painting  of  Colonel  Harde- 
man M'Donald,  you  will  find  above  the  lowly  mantel  of 
firm-hearted  Myra  that  devotedly  preserved  portrait  which 
survived  the  hate  and  malice  of  brutal  Flaskill  and  brutish 
Cashmore. 

Of  this  she  will  say,  as  she  tosses  aloft  a  smiling 
"  rebel  babe  "  who  rejoices  in  the  name  of  Frank  Bartow, 
Jr.: 

"  Dat's  my  ole  massa's  pickter — de  Lor'  bress  his  soul ! 
I  sed  as  how^  ole  Myra  was  agwine  to  presarbe  de  ole  man's 
image,  an'  I  'low  she  done  did  it.  Ki !  dis  chile  hyar, 
de  horned  image  of  his  grandfadder,  and  Myra's  his  niggar 
till  she  done  died.  What  I  keer  for  Mistur  Linkum's  proc- 
lamation.    I'se  a  niggar ! " 

One  word  to  dismiss  the  lofty-minded  and  generous- 


192  THE   MCDONALDS. 

hearted  Northerner,  Colonel  Irving.  Soon  after  the  cessa- 
tion of  hostilities  in  the  field — for  those  in  the  forum  un- 
happily continue — he  was  united  to  that  fair-haired,  blue- 
eyed  lady  of  the  North,  of  whom  we  have  hinted;  he 
resigned  his  commission,  and,  true  to  his  patriotic  love  for 
the  -whole  Union  as  it  was  intended  by  Washington,  Han- 
cock, and  Jeflferson,  is  laboring  to  restore  real  peace  and 
permanent  prosperity  to  the  once  firmly  established  United 
States. 

Yet  years  of  prosperity  and  peace  must  again  have 
blessed  the  now  mutilated  bosom  of  the  South,  ere  fi'om 
those  sad  relics,  the  ashes  of  Southern  homes,  greatness 
and  happiness  can  spring  to  efface  the  remembrance  of 
"  Sherman's  m-and  march." 


THE    END. 


RARE  BOOK 
COLLECTION 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT 

CHAPEL  HILL 

Wilmer 
869 


